


Growing Young

by Kabansky



Series: Redemption Fall [2]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Family History, Growing Up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2018-10-07 13:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10361466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kabansky/pseuds/Kabansky
Summary: Twenty-three years before meeting Judy, Nick's chance encounter with a strange orphan changes his life forever.  As they grow up together, he and Finnick form a powerful bond that endures the tests of time and tragedy.





	1. December, Way Back Then

**Author's Note:**

> It just made more sense to put the prequel timeline into its own separate story, instead of alternating back and forth. Streetlights will continue where I left off once this is done.

One cold day in December, 1992.

 

Frozen wind bit Nick's face so hard it hurt, but nothing could dampen his spirits.  It was the last week of school before the holidays, and he had just learned that he was going to be spending it with his grandparents.  Just looking forward to that alone was enough to make these next several hours bearable.  He skipped and ran down the frigid sidewalk to the bus stop, in part to keep warm, and in part out of excitement to get the week over with.  Not even the overcast sky, or the dull hustle and bustle of the city around him could ruin this for him.  He was going to attack this week with enthusiasm.  

His father's parents lived a few states away to the west in the Appalachians, in a small mountain town called Alto, the surrounding area of which was an outdoorsmammal's paradise.  Nick had wondered why no one there gave his grandparents any trouble for being foxes, but had found out on his first visit that Jackson Jeremiah Wilde was something of a legend.  He had kept Nick awake late into then night, telling him stories of his Marine Corps days.  From the hair-raising, terrifying life of being a fresh "boot" in the barracks way out in the southwestern desert, the many crazy, weird, and wonderful experiences with his fellow Marines, to Vietnam:  the place that made him grow up fast and learn what true sacrifice and hell on earth was.  Jackson was a feisty, battle-hardened old mammal, and the residents of Alto knew nothing fooled or fazed him.  Despite this, he had tenderness and humility about him that is only gained from a lifetime of hard lessons.  Nick admired him to the core, and his wife Jesse.  She had stuck by him for so long, in a way that few mammals had the kind of character to.

Nick's mother followed close behind him.  She was a pretty, athletically built vixen in her late twenties, and wrapped tightly in her old college hoodie.  She had only lived in the Zootopia area since the year after she had graduated, and still could not fathom how any mammal could tolerate the sheer, bone-chilling cold this city took on in the months of December and January.  It was tolerable, but only if there was snow.  Today there was no snow.

Nick saw that his mother was flagging just a little too far back, and turned around to run back and take her by the paw.

"C'mon!"  he said loudly over the wind, not noticing how uncomfortable his mother clearly was, "we're going to be late!"

The bus was just barely coming into view a few hundred yards down the road when Nick reached the bus stop.  He began stomping his boots on the ground feverishly as the wind picked up, but not enough to drown out the rattling noise of a stick being dragged along a metal fence.  Nick turned to see a young male black footed ferret the same age as him running towards him from the other side of the bus stop.

"Ronny!"  Nick shouted, and the ferret waved a gloved paw at him as he approached.

Ronny pushed his scarf down off his muzzle and flashed a pained smile as the wind hit him full force.  Compared to Nick, he was bundled up so heavily he looked like he was attempting an expedition to the Antarctic.  Erica watched her son's best friend approach, both amused and grateful.  She was not the only one who was sane enough to dislike this weather.

"One more week, Nick!" he said in a strained, yet positive tone, "We can do this!"

Nick looked at him quizzically as the bus slowed down in front of them, and they started walking toward it.

"Do you need more layers, Ronny?  It's cold, but it's not that cold."

The bus came to a noisy stop in front of them, and Nick turned to his mother so that she could hug him goodbye.

"Love you, sweetie...see you and Ronny this afternoon!"  She said, releasing him finally to follow Ronny onto the bus.  Turning to Ronny, she hugged him as well.

"Your mom said it was okay if you spent the night tonight, okay?"

Ronny's eyes lit up excitedly, and was about to reply when the bus driver called them onboard.

They climbed the steps and made their way down the aisle to the seats furthest back.  The only other children on the bus so far were a pair of sibling does, and one male hare.  The two female does both flashed annoyed looks as Ronny and Nick walked past, as if they had been overtly rude to pass so near them.  One of them whispered in her sister's ear something about how that "little ferret loser" smelled like he had not showered in months.  The other grinned cruelly in reply, glancing over shoulder at the two predators.  She leaned in close to her sister's ear, and quietly explained her theory that they had made out in the hall last Friday.

Erica stood outside and waved them goodbye as the bus lumbered away.  Once it was out of sight, she turned around and walked back in the direction she came.  Soon her mind was occupied with work, as well as gratitude that she too would be getting a break soon.  Her husband had been out of town for the last two weeks on business, which had left Erica with plenty of time to spend with Ronny's mother, who was due to give birth any day now, and extremely grateful for the companionship.  Her own husband was a firefighter in the Navy, and was constantly on duty, which left Katy Markin all alone with Ronny on the weekends often.  Erica and Nick were more than happy to spend their time keeping her company.

Ronny shook his head in disbelief at how comfortable Nick was with the cold.  He had to be kidding.   Sure, he was born and raised here, but there was no way he could be so at ease with freezing solid all day every day for three or four months out of the year. 

"I'm from Mojave, Nick.  You're used to this weather."  he replied as they sat down together, Ronny next to the window, "it got cold at night sometimes, but not like this."

Their conversation turned to football, and gradually, the bus filled up over the next half hour or so.  Before long, it was packed with noisy, energetic second graders.  The excitement about this being the final week of school was apparent, and discussions about what their families were planning on doing were ongoing.

"What are you doing for the holidays, Ronny?"  Nick asked, after they had listened to a warthog boy tell his friend, a moose girl, that he was going to be flying across the Atlantic to his father's condo in Greece.

Ronny shrugged and gave a soft laugh, "I wish could tell you we were doing something more exciting.  Just a few cousins coming over to our place from Mojave."

He paused, and a slightly crestfallen look came over his features.

"Dad's probably gonna have to work a lot, though.  He said if he's on call, he'll make it up to me."

Nick felt a pang of sympathy for his friend.  Suddenly his trip to his grandparents' house seemed like an unfair opportunity while Ronny's father was likely going to be gone on Christmas and New Year’s.  An idea struck him briefly, which alleviated the guilt, but was quickly snuffed out.  Ronny's family would want him to stay home, instead of running off with his friend to another state.

"I'll call you as often as I can while I'm in Alto, buddy."  Nick said, hoping that would make Ronny feel better.  Ronny smiled back as the bus slowed down to their elementary school.

"Thanks,"  he replied, grateful for Nick's innately caring personality, "I love my cousins, but they drive me crazy if we're in the same house for too long."

The bus squealed to a halt and the doors opened with a clacking sound.  As its occupants rambunctiously poured out onto the pavement.  Nick and Ronny sat still for a moment longer, waiting for the bus to empty before disembarking.  Nick watched the gathering crowds of children in the yard outside, some with families dropping them off, some throwing footballs back and forth.  The grey Zootopian skyline loomed in the distance behind them like something out of a painting.

"C'mon, Ronny!"  he said encouragingly as they finally stood up, "one more week!"

Ronny wrapped his scarf over his muzzle again, inwardly bracing for the worst.  Still, he could not help but be motivated by Nick's boundless enthusiasm.

"Let's do this!"  He stated confidently, and they exited the school bus together to meet the day.

 

~<{0}>~ 

 

By the the time they got off the bus several hours later, Ronny was nowhere quite so confident as he had been earlier. He was impressed by his father's job, but times like this made him wish his dad was not an Navy firefighter. They could have stayed in Mojave, where it was warm year round.

But then he would never have met Nick.

They made their back along the sidewalk together, heading towards Nick's house.  A posse of giggling high school-age bunnies walked past, and simultaneously threw Nick Ronny the six dirtiest looks they had ever seen. One of them even flashed her middle finger in a silent attempt to convey her disapproval of their existence.

Ronny watched them go, almost amused.

"Geez..." he breathed, "someone pee in your coffee?"

"Or steal your nail polish."  Nick added, a mischievous smile spreading on this lips as they waited for a crosswalk light to turn green. Ronny caught on to his humor quickly.

"Or ran out of your favorite shampoo." He said, returning the smirk as they started walking across the street.  A sheep honked her horn twice at them, and the two children jumped.

"ALRIGHT!"  Nick exclaimed angrily, and he and Ronny jogged to reach the other side of the street in a hurry, "we'll get out of your way, lady!  Don't mind us..."

A few minutes later, the city landscape turned into identical townhouses, with the interstate that led towards the bridge visible a short distance behind the neighborhood.  Dark was beginning to fall early, and snowflakes were beginning to trickle down from the deep blue, overcast sky.  Nick caught sight of his house, and was about to announce this when Ronny stopped, his eyes on a stretch of the interstate that was visible through a gap in two houses.

Nick looked around, and followed Ronny's gaze.

"What is it?"  He asked, his curiosity piqued.  

Ronny pointed at the noisy, bustling interstate, "There's something moving under that streetlight."

Nick's brow furrowed.  He could not see anything moving, just the flickering streetlight.

Then he saw it.  A tiny mammal, who looked to be a Fennec fox was making his way through the grass on the side of the road.  Before Nick could comment, the fennec disappeared from view, obscured by the house in front of them.

A sudden buzzing noise emanated from somewhere above them.  Nick and Ronny looked up to see a dragonfly perched on the top of a streetlamp to their left.  It seemed to stare down at them, contemplating them. 

Nick and Ronny continued walking, and their conversation was turning to the antics of one of their classmates as they walked up the driveway to Nick's house, past a silver sedan with the Marine Corps emblem sticker on the bumper.

"How many times did Caleb try to look under a girl's skirt today?"  Ronny asked as Nick knocked on the front door.

"I lost count,"  Nick replied, smirking, "every time a teacher had their back turned, he was pretending to drop a pencil."

Ronny chuckled dryly, stomping his footpaws anxiously, and wishing Nick's mom would hurry up and let them in.   "What is under a girl's skirt, do you know?"

Nick shrugged.

"The source of their girl power?"  he ventured, "maybe a gun."

The door swung open, and Nick jumped.  Erica stood to the side in the foyer, an amused smile on her pretty features.  Nick went redder than his fur when he realized his mother had been listening.

"Your first guess was closer."  She laughed, standing aside to allow Nick and Ronny to shed their boots and step into the warmth of the house.  

Once the two kids were both inside, Erica noticed how severely Ronny was shivering as he shed his thick downy jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door.  He looked absolutely frozen.

"C'mere, you," she said, kneeling down and letting the trembling ferret stagger into her arms, and Ronny gratefully returned the embrace.  

_Why can't we all just move to Mojave?_

 

 ~<{0}>~

 

Nick and Ronny passed a pleasant evening together in the Wilde family's cozy little home, finishing their homework with effort and focus they would never have given a month ago.  As the night wore on, the wind had died down significantly, but snowflakes were still falling outside.  They left a thin layer on every surface, that made it appear as if everything were coated in hazy glass.  Upon seeing this, Erica decided that she was going to drive Nick to school when it started back.  The cold and the distance to the bus stop worried her enough already.

It was right after they had finished the hearty, homemade oyster stew that Erica had prepared, that Nick remembered the fennec they had seen on their way home that day.  When he approached his mother to tell the story, he saw that she was on the phone with Ronny's mother, and hesitated.

"He's doing great, Katy...poor guy was freezing his little butt off when he and Nick got here...no contractions yet?"

Nick was about to join Ronny in his bedroom when Erica finally hung up the phone.  She caught sight of him hovering in the kitchen with a anticipatory look about him, and she regarded him quizzically.

"What is it, buddy?"  she asked.  Nick blinked.  He had completely forgotten what he was going to say.  He stood awkwardly for a moment longer, then Erica shooed him out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom.

"It's time for you both to get in the shower.  You can take one after Ronny."  his mother said teasingly , reaching down and attempting to tickle Nick's midsection in an attempt to get him to move quickly.

Nick jumped and dodged her paws, then ran off to his bedroom laughing with his mother in tow.

Fifteen minutes later, both Nick and Ronny were damp and pajama-clad.  They had both insisted that Erica stay up with them for a little while longer to read out loud one of the books that sat on a tiny shelf in Nick's room.  After a few minutes of careful deliberation, Erica pulled out a thick paperback book that Nick had never seen before, entitled  _The Wind in the Willows._

Erica's emerald eyes widened when she saw the title.  It brought back profound memories of lying awake in her father's arms, mesmerized by his baritone as he read aloud to her.  Now that she was holding it again, she realized that she had not seen this book since she was a little girl.  Wondering vaguely how it wound up on Nick's shelf, Erica held the volume up to show Nick and Ronny, who were both tucked into Nick's bed, which was just large enough for them both.

Ronny propped himself up on his elbow, his damp tail swishing behind him from under his blanket.  He looked as interested as Erica.

"I remember that!"  he stated excitedly, "Daddy was reading that to me when mom told us we were going to have another baby!"

Nick looked skeptical, but nonetheless took Ronny's interest in as story as a cue that he ought to like it too.  He scooted aside slightly to allow his mother to sit down between them with her back against the headboard, where she settled in with a gentle sigh.

"Granddad William used to read this to me when I was a kid."  Erica said as Nick snuggled in close to her.  He took the first page himself and turned it, his curiosity increasing by the second.

"The Wind in the Willows..." she began as a wave of comfortable familiarity rolled over her.  Ronny scooted in close also, and soon he was fighting hard to keep his eyes open as Erica read.  

 

~<{0}>~

 

It only took twenty minutes to put both Nick and Ronny to sleep.  Once Erica saw this, she took a moment to reflect on how thankful she was that Nick had found a friend as close as Ronny.  They were inseparable, to the point that Erica had become so used to Ronny sleeping over that she often felt as though she were raising twins of different species.

Pausing only to plant a kiss on each of their cheeks, Erica gingerly got up from between them and made for the door.  She was about to turn the light off when Nick's sleepy voice hit her ears.

"Mom?"

Erica closed her eyes in mild disappointment.  So close.

"What's up, buddy?"  She replied, turning around in the doorframe.

"On our way home today...we saw a baby fennec on the interstate."  he said, not moving a muscle.  Erica stared at her little son, trying to hide her confusion.   _What?_

"A baby fennec, sweetie?"  She asked, still not completely sure she had heard Nick correctly.

"Yeah,"  Nick continued, "me and Ronny saw him walking in the grass on the side.  Then we couldn't find him."

Erica contemplated these words for a moment.

"Was he alone?"

Nick nodded.  Erica could see the concern in his eyes and hear it in his voice.  It tugged on her heartstrings to hear that an infant was outside alone somewhere in this weather, but without more information, there was nothing she could do.

"I'm sure he'll be okay, Nick,"  she said compassionately, stifling her own yawn, "you should get to sleep for now."

"Okay!"  came the enthusiastic reply, and Erica chuckled in spite of herself.  She flicked the light off, and was about to close the door when Nick's voice floated through the dark again.

"When's daddy gonna be home?"  he asked, his tone hopeful.

Erica smiled understandingly, "He's coming home in a couple of hours, Nick.  You'll see him in the morning."

She brought the door to a few inches open, then opened it a few more.

"Goodnight Nick."  she whispered loudly, so as not to wake Ronny.

"Goodnight mom."  Came the reply.

 

 ~<{0}>~

 

Snow was falling harder now, hitting the windowpanes with a a steady tapping noise.  The neighborhood itself appeared to be asleep, as if the snow had rendered it immobile and silent.  Zootopia's skyline, normally bright and imposing in the background, was dimmed and looked like nothing more than foggy, lopsided stars in the inky winter sky.  Only one mammal was awake in the neighborhood, and it was a lone male fox that exited his car in the Wilde's driveway.  Bundled up in a thick leather jacket and a black beanie, he strode up the front steps of his house, bent with fatigue.

Erica lay half-awake on her side, curled up under the covers, and staring out at snow falling in the glow of the streetlights like little embers.  Suddenly, she felt warm breath on the sensitive fur of her neck, then sinewy arms wrapping themselves around her from behind.  The covers lifted, and her husband slipped under them with her, where he snuggled up tightly to his wife, his mind and body burning with pent up desire for her.  He had been away for two weeks, and did not know how much longer he could wait.

"I was wondering when you'd turn up..."  Erica breathed lustfully as Julian's lips and teeth gently gnawed on her fur, and his paws ran up and down her lithe figure, which was clad only in underwear that his fingers tugged at needfully.  She gasped out loud when she felt his lower body press against her rump, and she arched her back instinctively.

"Are the kiddos asleep?"  Julian growled softly, glancing at the wall across from their bed.  He needed her so bad it almost hurt.  Erica rotated in his arms so that she was straddling him, her tail swishing languidly.

"Mm-hmm."  She whispered, her supple lips meeting his passionately.  Julian smiled seductively in return, and she leaned in close, her eyes narrowed with desire.

"You know what?"  he whispered, his paws gripping her rump, "I think we can do this as quietly as we have to."

Erica began kissing her way up his neck, valiantly attempting to keep her lustful breathing quiet.

"...and you're a little overdressed."  Julian added.  Erica let out a faint yelp of surprise in spite of herself as Julian rolled them over so that she was on her back.  She gripped her husband's muscular back tightly, and leaned her head back as he draped himself over her.

Outside, a dragonfly perched on top of the streetlight like a sentinel, wings fluttering in the falling snow as if it were flying.  It's bulbous round eyes stared at a fixed spot in the distance, seemingly enjoying the view of Zootopia's skyline surrounded by fog.  

Headlights suddenly lit up the night, and an old grey pickup truck lumbered by, soft jazz floating out the windows.

 

 ~<{0}>~

 

Julian Wilde awoke with a sense of dread hanging over him.  He blinked several times and stared at the ceiling in dismay, cursing the morning to hell for daring to come so soon.  Right as he pushed the covers down and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, he remembered something truly wonderful.  He did not have to be at work until ten in the morning today.  Julian could practically feel the weight being lifted from his chest, and he allowed himself to fall backwards into his own print in the sheets with a soft thud. 

Erica stirred when she felt the mattress shake, and Julian immediately reached out and pulled her back into his arms.  She curled up in his embrace, savoring his scent while he ran his paws up and down her figure.

"It's four AM."  she whispered.  "Can't you wait till later?"

Instead of an answering, she felt his arms go limp and his head sink into the pillow.  He had already fallen back asleep.  As Erica too allowed sleep to overtake her again, she remembered Nick's story of the baby fennec on the interstate.  She had wanted to tell Julian earlier that night, but he had been so focused on relieving two weeks worth of stress that she had completely forgotten.

Nick brought it up for her a few hours later, when he and Ronny were awake.  Julian was up too, and in a better mood than anyone usually saw him in the morning.  When it came time for them to leave for school, Julian was all too willing to walk them to the bus stop.  As Nick and Ronny were bundling up, Nick mentioned the fennec right as Erica was about to.

"Dad! Dad!"  he said excitedly as he attempted to put his own jacket on by stuffing his arms through the wrong sleeves, "yesterday, me and Ronny saw a baby fennec on the road!"

Julian had the same confused look on his face that Erica had, pausing while tying Nick's shoe, something he had had been dying to do for the last two weeks.

"What's that, buddy?"  He asked, and Erica caught his eye.  She gave him a nod that said "he told me already."

Nick had taken his jacket off again, "he was all by himself in the grass, daddy!"

Julian raised his eyebrows.  He had overheard a conversation about something similar.

"Do you know where he went?"  Julian pressed.  He looked at Erica again, and she nodded a second time.

"No," Nick replied, shaking his head, "we only saw him for a second."

"Well,"  Julian said, finishing Nick's shoelace and ruffling his head fondly, "if you see him today, bring him inside.  He doesn't need to be out by himself in this weather."

Julian stood up and opened the door, letting Nick and Ronny file outside into the freezing, snowy city.  The sun had come out, and Zootopia shone in the light like every surface had been scrubbed clean.  Pausing to let Nick and Ronny hug Erica goodbye, Julian hung back for a moment longer to kiss his wife long and passionately.

"I'll be off work early today," Erica said seductively as they parted, and Julian flashed her a charming smile.  He took in the sight of her in her work clothes, lithe and professional in a black female's suit and jacket.  Everything about her turned him on, from the way she swished her tail back and forth while she stood, to the little dimples on her cheeks. 

"Just hurry home."  He said in a loud whisper, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Nick and Ronny were busy tossing snowballs into the sky and watching them impact the concrete.  Erica giggled and blew him a kiss which he caught deftly in his outstretched paw, then descended the steps to join Nick and Ronny. 

As they walked, Ronny was still trying to get his scarf wrapped around his muzzle just right, and took great care to make sure it was cinched up just right.  It kept slipping off, and he was starting to become frustrated.  Julian deftly fixed the problem, laughing at how heavily Ronny was bundled up.

"Give it a few years, Ronny,"  he said, "you'll be so used to the cold every winter you'll forget to put on a jacket sometimes."

Ronny looked back up at him as if he had just announced that he was the king of Australia.

"Hey, dad?"  Nick suddenly piped up, skipping ahead a few feet, "what's under a girl's skirt?"

Julian snorted loudly, trying to suppress the burst of laughter that had almost escaped his lips.  He had been expecting something else about the baby fennec.  The types of questions that kids at their age asked never failed to amuse and astound him.

"I beg your pardon?"  He replied, wanting to see if there was a more innocent reason for Nick asking this.  Ronny looked up expectantly as well, also unaware of what the question really entailed.

"When girls wear skirts, what are they hiding?"  Ronny asked as he walked backwards so that he could talk to Julian face to face, who could not stop the smirk from growing on his muzzle.

"What makes you think they're hiding anything?"  Julian asked as they rounded the corner of the neighborhood and waited at the crosswalk together.  Nick shrugged.  He could not understand why his dad was acting like he did not know.  His father knew everything.  He and Ronny each took hold of Julian's paws, and they started across together.

"Caleb said it's the source of their girl power, and that's why he's always trying to see it!"  Nick continued, causing a passing female zebra to do a double take at him, and then at Julian.  Julian ignored the zebra's lingering look of confusion, and followed Nick and Ronny across the street.

"Yep," He answered casually, "the source of their girl power."

 

~<{0}>~ 

 

The day went by slow.  If it was not their math teacher's monotonous tone, or the seemingly endless bus rides, it was that the entire elementary school seemed to be stuck in a time loop.  Every motion felt redundant and pointless, like the year was taking its final breaths.

Nick and Ronny nearly fell asleep on the ride home despite the banter around them, which gave off a soporific sense of repetitiveness.  The enthusiasm of yesterday was reduced to desperation for the week to end in a hurry.  

Ronny was unusually quiet, but Nick knew why.  He was experiencing the confusion and excitement of becoming a sibling, and it was occupying his mind so much that he fell silent.  

Before long, Nick decided Ronny needed to talk.  He nudged his friend lightly, and Ronny seemed to snap out of a daze.

"What's up, buddy?"  Nick ventured, "you haven't spoken a word since recess."

Ronny shrugged in reply, once again grateful for Nick's pleasant, caring demeanor.

"Just thinking about mom."  he said, but immediately felt like he needed to explain more.

"Your mom told me this morning that she went into labor last night."  He added.  Nick could hear the mixture of emotions in Ronny's voice, and his heart went out to him.  

Before Nick could answer, the bus came squealing to a halt outside their stop.  They stood up and slowly made their way to the doors, and as they did, a coyote held out his fist to them both.  Nick and Ronny both extended their own fists to meet the coyote's, who was a mean-looking, yet friendly second grader.

"See ya, Caleb."  Nick said to him as he passed behind Ronny, and Caleb flashed a wily grin back.

 

 ~<{0}>~ 

 

Once they had stepped outside again, Ronny pulled his scarf up over his muzzle, and quickly pulled it down again.  His breath was burning the fur underneath.

"How do you feel about getting a little sister?"  Nick asked as they started walking.  Ronny shrugged again, dusting snow off his shoulders.

"I don't really know what to think, to be honest."  He replied.  It was a new concept to him, but would have been more okay with it if the baby was going to be a boy, "I heard mom and dad talking about having another baby in the spring.  I don't think they knew I could hear them."

Nick listened patiently as they passed by a small neighborhood park with a small playground surrounded by trees.  He wondered if he would ever be a big brother to anyone, or if he would be an only child his whole life.  Ronny was like a twin brother, but Nick still wished he could be an older sibling someday.

"You want to know the truth, Ronny?"  Nick answered with a subtle smile, "I'm jealous of you."

Ronny looked skeptical, but waited patiently for Nick's explanation.

"Seriously,"  Nick continued, "sometimes I wish my mom and dad would have another kid."

Feeling reassured, Ronny picked a stick up off the ground and dragged it along the fence like he had the day before.

"Have your mom and dad ever talked about it? Nick?"

Nick didn’t answer immediately, so Ronny followed his friend’s gaze to where a male fennec fox, no more than three or four years old, was slumped against a tree with his face buried in his knees.  He was wearing only a long, filthy orange sweater that hung to his knees, with the sleeves torn off at the elbow.

“He looks like the fennec we saw yesterday.”  Nick said, breaking the silence.

“He looks cold.”  Ronny replied.  “You think he’s cold?”

“Yeah, probably.  I mean, I think that’s all he’s wearing.”  Nick said, referring to the fennec’s sweater.

“C’mon, your mom’s going to start wondering.”  Ronny said, approaching Nick again.

“Dad that if he saw him today, to bring him home…”  Nick answered, his voice trailing off.   Ronny was about to say that they didn’t have time, but stopped when he saw the fennec curled up with his back to a tree and his face buried in his knees, shivering uncontrollably.  He looked absolutely alone and abandoned.  

Ronny’s heart melted, and he followed Nick off the path and along the creek to where the fennec sat, still not having noticed them.

As they approached, Nick slowed down, not wanting to startle the fennec.  He knelt a few feet from him, and the fennec’s ears instinctively turned towards him.  Ronny hung behind slightly and watched.

“Hey…little guy…”  Nick ventured softly, and the fennec slowly lifted his head from his knees.  He stared at Nick and Ronny with almost a confused look on his features, as if he were not used to anyone even speaking to him directly.  Now that they were seeing him up close, they saw just how malnourished and exhausted he appeared.  His fur was rough, soaked, and wind battered, and he looked like he had not eaten in days.  Despite all this, the fennec had bright, golden-brown eyes that gave off a distinct aura of feisty energy.

Nick stretched out his paw for the fennec to take, who simply stared at it as if he had no idea what the gesture meant.   

“It’s okay…I’m not going to hurt you.”  Nick continued, keeping his voice gentle.  Somehow, this seemed to get the message across, and the fennec extended one paw towards Nick’s, more out of curiosity than anything else.   Nick gently held his paw, and extended his other, which the fennec took also.  His green eyes met the fennec’s golden brown ones and somehow, he understood.

"It’s okay."  Nick said softly.

The fennec stared back, and somehow understood fully that this mammal meant him no harm.  In that moment, they were connected mind, body, and soul.

Slowly, he allowed himself to be pulled to a standing position, where he stood shivering on bare, calloused footpaws.  He looked around him, at the snowy park, at the towering skyline in the distance, and then back up at Nick as if to say "who  _are_  you?"

"C'mon," Nick encouraged the fennec, who took a couple shaky steps forward with him, "let’s go home."

Ronny extended a paw to the fennec also, which he took.  Together they walked out of the park and back to the sidewalk with the fennec between Nick and Ronny, holding their paws tightly.


	2. Baptism

The world was dark and bitter cold.  No sight, but the terrible din of howling wind, snow, and raging waves dominated all other senses.  There was ice, little slivers of it leaking at the edges of the dark, only discernable by touch.  Suffocating, cramped, and claustrophobic, this was all that existed.  Suddenly there was a terrible spine-chilling noise and a terrible spine-chilling cry, and the world was falling.   Terror icier than the weather enveloped, and then the dark, cold world was twisting and churning violently, rising and falling.   Nauseating pain crept in, then miserable, awful loneliness.  There was no one, and nothing there, and in waves, the dark world was carried off alone, adrift into the night.

When the fennec awoke, he could still feel the waves carrying him away, and the mattress seemed to sway underneath him like a boat on water.  He blinked and rolled over, still trying to separate reality from memory.  The blanket he lay under, softer than anything he had felt in his life, served as a sign that he was not still dreaming.  

It was at that moment that he realized he was alone again.  Terror gripped the fennec's mind, and he sat up quickly, staring around the strange room for any sign of the foxes, or the ferret.  He was alone in a dark, unfamiliar bedroom, and in his mind, had been abandoned.  The friendly faces, the gentle arms holding him, and especially being bathed and feeling his long headfur cut short must have all been a dream.  Trembling on the verge of panic, the fennec threw the covers aside, and hopped off the bed onto a soft carpet.  He was about to sprint for the open door where light shone through, when a prickling sensation crept up his back.  Turning on the spot, he froze in horror.

He wanted desperately to look away, but his gaze was locked in front of him.  For a moment he could not think clearly.  White-hot fear filled his brain, creeping down his neck and into his spine. He willed his legs to work, to run out the door, to get as far away from this room as he could.

Out the door he went, running faster than he ever had before into a carpeted hallway that led to a small, cozy living room.  He was right at the hallway entrance when he ran headlong onto a wall of red fur.  He stumbled backwards a step and fell down on his rump, and when he looked up, relief flowed through him.

Nick laughed and knelt, placing his paws under the fennec's armpits to help him up.

"Are you okay, buddy?"  Nick asked, once the fennec was standing upright.  He stood nervously, not speaking.  Adrenaline was still coursing through him.  Looking down, he realized he had been dressed in a pair of red pajamas.

"Daniel's awake!"  Nick called over his shoulder into the well-lit living room, taking the fennec's paw and leading him there, where Erica was curled up on the couch next to a female ferret, who held a bundle of blankets in her arms.  Ronny was sprawled on the carpet next to a board game, waiting for Nick to return.  It was dark out, and more snow was hitting the windowpane with a steady tapping sound.

The fennec was in shock.  They were here all along.

Erica leaned forward and held her arms out for him.  The fennec continued to stand where he was, a storm of emotions pouring through his head.

"C'mere, Daniel," she said encouragingly, "it's okay."

That was enough for him.  The fennec ran in a half-waddle towards Erica, who scooped him up and settled back down next to Katy on the couch, where he clung tightly to her, still trembling.  He still didn't know much about his this new world he found himself in, but what he did understand, was that wherever the foxes were, was a safe place to be.

"What's the matter?"  Erica asked him, feeling his trembling form.  The fennec did not answer, and continued to hold her, relieved that she was real.  His eyes lingered on the darkened hallway entrance.

"That's Finnick, Mrs. Markin!"  Nick announced to the ferret on the couch next to his mother.  Erica laughed softly, patting the fennec's back.

"That's what Nick and Ronny nicknamed him,"  she said, turning to Katy, "it was the only word we've heard from him so far."

Katy smiled, watching the fennec adoringly, who was had turned his head on Erica's shoulder to see the ferret.  He regarded her expressionlessly, still holding tight to Erica.

"So how'd you name him Daniel?"  She asked.  A demure smile formed on Erica's face.

"It was actually your son's idea.  We named him after your grandfather."

Katy's eyes widened, and she giggled in spite of herself.  

"Aw, that's so sweet, Ronny!" she said, causing Ronny blush furiously.  The fennec finally loosened his grip on Erica, and he curled up in her lap instead, his gaze on the bundle in Katy's arms.  A quiet cry emanated from the blankets, startling him.

"Emily's rejoining civilization."  Katy said, as a tiny, clenched paw protruded from the blankets.  The fennec leaned forward in Erica's lap, and saw a newborn ferret looking back up at him through eyes that were still learning to focus.

He stared for a moment in astonishment.  He had never seen a baby before.  Katy stroked the soft downy fur of her cheek, and tenderly adjusted the blue cap that she wore over her ears.

"She sleeps so well."  she crooned, "Ronny never stopped babbling out loud to us at night."

Erica chuckled and nodded while the fennec continued to watch Emily, completely fascinated.

"At least he was just talking at night. Nick was still kicking after he left the womb.  When he was ten months old, he woke both me and Julian up when he started dreaming that his father's head was a soccer ball."

Nick and Ronny were listening closely, frowning when they realized the conversation had become about them.

"Look at this, Katy."  Erica said, adjusting the fennec on her lap, and lifting up the back of his pajama top.  Katy gasped when she saw a jet-black, extremely crude tattoo of a dragonfly just above the base of his tail. The skin underneath was still reddened and irritated, and the tattoo itself seemed to bulge out slightly, like a scar.

"He had this when Nick found him."  Erica explained, setting the fennec's shirt down.   Katy felt a rush of sympathy for him, wondering what kind of an environment this poor child had been in that would tattoo an infant.

"Who would do that...?"  Katy said, voicing her concerns.  Erica shrugged.

"There was no trace of him at all. No record of him anywhere," Erica said, stroking the fennec's recently shortened headfur, "they had to take a guess at his age, and we don't even know what nationality he is.  So they let us give him a whole new identity when we signed for him."  

Before anyone could speak further, the sound of the front door shutting drew everyone's attention.  Julian appeared by the foyer, dressed in his leather jacket and beanie.  He was accompanied by a similarly dressed male ferret.

"Daddy!"  Ronny exclaimed, leaping up and running forward to wrap his arms around his father's midsection.  Nick followed suit, and Julian hoisted his laughing son up over his shoulder playfully.

"How's your new little brother?" Julian asked as he set Nick down. Nick pointed at where Erica sat with the fennec curled up in her lap.

"Daniel was all tuckered out after the doctors visit, so I set him down on our bed for a nap."  Erica said, standing up and handing the fennec to Julian.

"Is this him?"  Ronny's father asked curiously.

"That's him, Scott," Julian answered, gently bouncing the fennec on his hip, "this is our Daniel David Wilde."

"Ready to head home, Ronny?"  Scott said to Ronny, who looked slightly downcast when he realized that his father's appearance meant it was time to go home, and he would not see Nick until the beginning of January.

"I guess so,"  Ronny replied reluctantly.  He turned to Nick, who could sense his friend's disappointment.  He had already tried to ask if it would be okay if Ronny came with them to Alto, but to no avail.  While Katy, Erica, Julian, and Scott said their goodbyes, Nick and Ronny hung back in the living room a moment longer.

They embraced like two long, lost companions.

"I'll call you as soon as I get the chance, Ronny."  Nick said encouragingly as they pulled apart.  Ronny smiled somewhat awkwardly.

"Thanks, Nick."  He replied.  He felt a gentle brush of a paw on his side, and turned to see the fennec standing next to him, looking up at him anxiously.

The fennec could tell that there was some sort of farewell happening.  It upset him even more when he was able to grasp that the ferret was going away.  Ronny had been there to help bring him to this new world, and felt as connected to him as he did to Nick.  He silently hugged Ronny around the middle, wishing he could stay.

Ronny returned the hug, patting the fennec's head gently, "I'll come back in a couple of weeks, buddy.  Okay?"

The fennec's ears pricked up, and released Ronny.  He looked significantly more reassured.

"C'mon, Ronny!"  Scott called from the door.  Ronny sighed and turned to follow his father's voice.

"See ya, Finnick." he said quickly, starting towards the door, "see ya, Nick!"

"Take care, Ronny!"  Nick replied.  Seconds later, the door shut, leaving Nick and Finnick alone in the living room.

 

~<{0}>~

 

Finnick spent a restless night disturbed by half-dreams of an ominous presence in Nick's room.  He would wake up in a cold sweat, looking around the dark room desperately, but seeing nothing but Nick's warm, sleeping form beside him.  When he finally woke up again, he was buckled up in a car seat in the back of Julian's car.

It was mid-morning, and they had been driving for a few hours already.  The motion of the road beneath him reminded Finnick of his most recent road trip, but this one was different, and he knew it.  The mammals in the front seats did not sound worried, and there was no feeling of being chased.  Despite the winter landscape outside, the sunlight that spilled into the car through the windowpane was warm, and felt like an invisible blanket over him. 

Finnick glanced out the window, and with a pang of familiarity, saw an open field with a small playground in the middle. He watched the street closely as they passed it, realizing for the first time how far he had walked.  

Then he noticed the music.  It was a slow, soft jazz melody, led by a gentle piano that moved Finnick so deeply that he could not do anything but sit and listen, completely captivated.

They stopped for bathroom breaks twice.  The first time, they pulled into a gas station outside a small farm town called Bunnyburrow, drawing stares on the other side of the gas pump from a pair of bunnies.  

"C'mon, Stu."  The female of the two said, pretending not to sound anxious.  Her eyes kept glancing back and forth from her husband to Julian.  Stu stopped fueling before his truck's tank was full, and climbed inside in an obvious hurry.

"All buckled in, Judy?"  He said over his shoulder as he shut the door.  Julian sighed in exasperation as the truck sped away, and received a smirk and a nod of understanding from the wolf that took their place at the pump.

Gradually, the landscape became increasingly mountainous.  By dusk, the interstate carved through small, forested mountains, and past various mountain towns.  At one point, they passed through a fairly large city, at which point Nick took great interest in asking Julian how skyscrapers were built.  Finnick listened as well, not understanding a word, but nonetheless as fascinated as Nick.  One building was like a gigantic mirror, reflecting the setting sun brilliantly.  The windowpanes glowed gold, like then entire three-hundred foot tall surface was made of it.

It was nearly eleven at night when Nick finally read the sign for Alto, and Julian took them on a short drive through the suburbs, lamenting on how expensive it was to live here. Finnick watched the streetlights whip by through half-lidded eyes, letting their orange glow sedate him.

Before long, they reached an upscale, two story, cabin-like home.  Julian parked the car on the shoulder, then looked behind him to see that Finnick was passed out in his car seat.

"Good timing."  he mused, yawing widely.

Erica got out and opened Finnick's door, gently unbuckling his seat belt and carefully lifting him out with her.  Nick had woken up when he heard the door opening, and hopped out himself.  Once Julian had both his and Erica's luggage in his paws, and Nick had his backpack secured, they made their way towards the house, where a faint glow was visible through the windows.  They were a few feet from the front door when it opened, and a male fox in his late fifties appeared, wearing a flannel plaid coat, and a friendly smile on his tough features.

"You're lookin' soft, boy!"  Jackson said gruffly to Julian, but with a humorous flair, "the new corps feedin' you well?"

Julian smirked and threw his arms around his father, who returned the hug enthusiastically, clapping his son heartily on the back.  Once he had greeted Nick and Erica, Jackson's eyes fell upon Finnick, who was still asleep with his head on Erica's shoulder.

"You best put him to bed fast,"  he said, putting a finger to his lips,  "Jessica's been achin' to see her new grandson, and she'll wake him right up."  

They followed Jackson into the spacious, yet cozy dwelling.  It had a rustic, homey feel to it, and the wooden walls were adorned with picture frames.  An old bolt action rifle sat above the fireplace mantle, and the fireplace itself was made of stone tile.  A long, green sofa sat in front of it, with pillows displaying the Marine Corps emblem.  

Jessica appeared from the kitchen, wearing a light green nightgown.  Like Erica, she was a lifelong athlete whose marriage to a Marine had only increased her appetite for running marathons, triathlons, and other endurance sports.

"C'mere, you."  she said to Julian, pulling him into a hug.  When Jessica saw Erica with Finnick, she gasped out loud.

"Is this him, Erica?"  she asked adoringly, "is this little Daniel?"

Erica nodded, smirking, "this is our sleeping beauty."

Finnick's mouth was hanging open a few centimeters, and his face was pressed hard into Erica's shoulder, such that it would likely leave lines on his skin.

"Did you really find him yourself?"  Jessica said, turning to Nick, who walked into her open arms.

"Sort of,"  Nick said shyly, "my friend Ronny helped."

Jessica ruffled his head, and Nick continued to blush.  Jackson stood by the back deck, waving the rest of the family over.

"Y'all probably want to get to sleep, don' ya?"  he said, opening the door, "Guest cabin is unlocked for you.  Got your key, Julian?"

Julian nodded, and the rest of his family followed.  Jackson stood aside for them, and was joined by Jessica, while Julian hung back for a moment longer.

"Pastor Devoss is gonna want to baptize Daniel tomorrow night, son,"  Jackson said with a smirk, "just so y'all are aware."

Julian chuckled, leaning on the door frame while the cool winter air teased the exposed fur on the back of his neck.

"Oh, I know that old gunny's gonna love finding out he's got a new nephew,"  He said with a subtle eyeroll.  

The jingling of keys behind him drew his attention, and he looked over his shoulder into the dark backyard to where Erica, Nick, and Finnick were opening the door to a small cabin, their footprints leading back towards the back porch.  The whole scene was extremely well lit by a full moon, which illuminated the small, snowy field that Jackson and Jessica's backyard lay in.

"Breakfast at eight."  Jessica stated, "and trim your headfur before you show up tomorrow.  Doesn't the Corps have grooming standards anymore?"

Julian laughed again, inching away slowly.  He was starting to become desperate to collapse onto some kind of soft surface.

"Goodnight."  he said with a tone of finality as he shut the door.

The guest cabin was a one room structure, the interior of which resembled a hotel room more than anything. Two queen size beds sat side by side facing a pair of windows, above a small stand with a TV on it.  Next to the bed nearest to the door was a closet, and on the opposite side of the room was a cramped bathroom.  

Erica set Finnick down on the bed next to the bathroom while she changed into a long shirt that served as a suitable nightdress.  He had woken up, but only enough that he was vaguely aware of Julian entering the cabin, or the thin rushing sound of Nick brushing his teeth.  When he fell asleep again, his dreams were devoid of waves, cold, fire, and blood for the first time in his life.  Instead, he was running happily through the snow, paw in paw with Nick and Ronny like he had only the day before.

A few hours later, Nick returned from the bathroom to see Finnick sitting up in bed, staring out the window at the moonlit landscape.  Curious, he climbed over his father's sleeping form, and gently prodded his brother, who did not respond at first.  Finnick continued staring out the window until Nick finally whispered his name, and when he did, Finnick seemed to snap out of a trance.  For a fraction of a moment, he stared back at Nick like he did not recognize him.  Somewhere deep inside, Nick felt a flicker of fear.

The ghostly look immediately vanished from Finnick's eyes.  His features broke into an excited smile, and he playfully half-tackled Nick backwards onto the mattress, where he snuggled up to his brother, reveling in the closeness he had never known.  Right as Nick started to drift off again, he heard a faint, muffled buzzing sound, and turned his head slightly to see some sort of insect taking off from the windowsill.  

Something inside his mind stirred.  For the first time, he remembered two compound eyes staring down at him and Ronny.  Those eyes had seemed so focused, and so...aware, like they could see through him, and like they knew what was happening.

By morning, Nick had completely forgotten about it.

 

~<{0}>~

 

To say Nick enjoyed the day was an understatement.  Jackson Wilde knew exactly how to make sure his grandson was always on the move.  After breakfast, they spent the morning outside in the snow, eventually walking across the backyard to a small hill that stood out due to its lack of trees.  There, they spent the entire day on the slope, sledding down, and hiking up, breaking only for lunch.  

Finnick was overwhelmed.  He didn't know what to make of this place, and all its friendly faces.  Jessica absolutely adored him, and had even produced a bright red sweater that she had crocheted herself for him.  The snow was also a new experience, having spent the first two winters of his life that he could remember cold, miserable, and hungry on the playground at Normandy drive.  Erica thankfully had the intuition to know when he needed a break.  Knowing how this was a new experience for him, and to prevent her newly adopted son from being overstimulated, she would go outside just with Finnick to help him unwind.  These moments of peace and quiet away from the noise and attention seemed to do the trick, and Finnick stayed in a calm, even happy mood the entire day.

Once everyone had returned to the house, the shadows were beginning to lengthen outside.  Erica had stuck Nick and Finnick in the shower together, and to Nick's displeasure, dressed him in a little suit.  Finnick's attire was significantly less formal, wearing Nick's old Christmas sweater and a pair of hand-me-down jeans.  They stood at the foot of their bed while Julian and Erica got dressed, awkwardly examining each other's appearances.  Nick tugged irritatingly at the collar of his shirt, feeling strangled.  He hated this suit, and the way the fabric itched.  It was like wearing an itchy straight jacket.  Finnick looked almost comically grown up, like a midget at a college frat house. 

The drive to Alto's community church took them on a scenic tour of the mountain town.  One of the roads passed by an overlook that gave them a spectacular view of the surrounding valley and the the forested mountains around it.  Finnick watched it pass by, awestruck.

A warm, inviting glow emanated from the chapel.  The light from inside filtered out through the stain-glass windows, and spilled out onto the snow as the Wildes walked through the crowded parking lot towards large wooden double doors, Finnick on Erica's hip and Nick holding Julian's paw.  They were joined by Jackson and Jessica at the doors, one of which an ocelot held open for them.

The interior was massive despite its seemingly small stature from outside.  Brilliantly colorful stain-glass windows lined the walls in towering columns, all the way to the back, where two carpeted steps lead up to a pulpit, an altar, and one large window that dominated the back of the chapel. All around them, incandescent light bulbs made to look like candles sat in artificial garland, strung along the top of the windows on either side of the chapel. Next to the pulpit, a large Christmas tree sat on the clean, blue carpet, covered in dazzling little lights. The entire building emitted a powerful yuletide atmosphere, one that absolutely captivated Finnick once he was inside. His eyes widened, absorbing the scene around him, all the while clinging to Erica tightly.

They made their way towards the front pews, where a small cluster of foxes was gathered. One of them, a tall, burly male Julian's age in a black suit, turned when he saw the Wildes approaching, and his face broke into an enthusiastic smile. Julian clasped his paw tight, and they exchanged a boisterous hug, clapping each other on the back.

"Like hugging a brick wall, Stan," Julian said, chuckling as he released him, "did your pecs get bigger, or something?"

Stan delivered Julian a playful punch to the chest in response, while a small girl in a green velvet dress clung nervously to his leg.

"Hey, you're just a shorter brick wall, Jules," he answered with an almost booming laugh, "I still can't keep up with you."

Nick stood at Julian's side, at awe with Stan's imposing size and physique. Noticing this, Stan looked down towards his daughter, who was watching Nick curiously.

"Remember cousin Nick, Brianna?" He said, stroking her headfur.

Brianna nodded and giggled, then blushed furiously and hid her face behind her father's leg. Stan and Julian both laughed softly, and Brianna continued to sneak embarrassed glances from behind cover.  Stan then turned his granite gaze back to Nick, who seemed to freeze in place when he heard Stan address him.

"The last time I saw you, you could just about fit in my palm, buddy."  He said with an endearing glint in his eye. Somewhere in Nick's memory, he was able to recall sitting in the lap of a gigantic fox, whose paws were almost as big as he was.

Julian ruffled Nick's head fondly, "This is Uncle Stan. He was with me when I went away on deployment last year.  In here, he's Pastor Devoss."

"You've got a very brave dad, Nick. He saved my life." Stan said, kneeling down to extend a massive paw for Nick to shake.  Nick's own paw was swallowed whole, and he allowed Stan to gently shake his arm, still in awe that this giant was talking to him directly.

Once Stan released Nick's paw, he stood up and for the first time, caught sight of Finnick in Erica's arms.  He raised his eyebrows curiously.

"New addition, Jules?" He asked, gesturing to Finnick, who was still clinging to Erica while she talked animatedly to Stan's wife.  Julian nodded and smiled warmly.

"Yep, that's the fennec I was telling you about over the phone. Officially adopted as of the day before yesterday. It was Nick and his friend Ronny who found the little guy all by himself."

Stan turned back to Julian, an endearing smile on his features.

"Well congratulations, bud!" He said, clapping his brother-in law on the shoulder, "you started off the week in the field, and finished it as a father of two boys!"

Nick had meandered over to where Erica sat on the front pew with Finnick.  Brianna continued to watch Nick curiously, while sucking on a couple fingers nervously.  Julian regarded Stan with a smirk, who rolled his eyes.

"When are you going to tell him," he asked in a half-whisper to Julian, "that all you did was save my Tiger Blood stash from being thrown away by the MPs?"

Julian shrugged, and stroked his chin thoughtfully, still wearing his smirk.

"When he's old enough to know why he's never going to drink that stuff unless he's at war," he replied with a hint of a laugh, "I knew you would probably die without them, so I took a chance, and stole them back for you, Gunny."

"I owe you a beer."

"You've overpaid that debt, sir."

 

~<{0}>~

 

Erica's sister was nearly identical to her, with only a few subtle differences.  Zoe's ears were shorter, and her fur was a slightly lighter shad of red, but otherwise could be mistaken for a twin.  She and Erica chatted enthusiastically, catching up on work, family, memories, and the antics of their offspring.  A small boy about Finnick's age swung on her paw while she talked, laughing and babbling to himself.

"You're so lucky, sis,"  Zoe said with a smirk, "of all the orphans you could have adopted, you got the quiet one.  Kyle hasn't shut up since he started walking."

Her own son was attempting to hang upside down on her arm.  Erica laughed and sat down on the pew behind her, still holding Finnick.

"He's actually so well behaved it makes me wonder about him."  She said, adjusting Finnick on her leg.  Kyle hopped up onto the pew too, and lay down on his back, giggling.  Finnick simply stared at him like he was having a seizure.

Zoe regarded her sister quizzically, "what do you mean?"  

"Daniel's just never acted up at all,"  Erica answered with a shrug, "we don't know where he came from, or what kind of environment it was, but he knows things that I never expected a kid his age to know.  He's just shell-shocked, really."

She paused, stroking Finnick's head.

"Look at him, Erica!" Zoe said adoringly as Finnick stared up at the stain-glass window, "he doesn't know what to make of all this!"

Erica decided that it was time to let Finnick get some quiet time.  He was starting to look overstimulated.

"I'm going to take him out front for a bit," she said, standing up and adjusting Finnick on her hip, "he's still not used to this much attention."

Finnick was in a state of shock again. The sights, sounds, colors, and smells all around him were a sensory overload. He had never been exposed to such an onslaught of positive energy before, and it left him perpetually taking it all in. The warm glow of the holiday lights, mixed with the pleasant, minty aroma of pine needles gave him an unfamiliar sense of contentment. He continued to cling to Erica motionlessly, resting his head on her shoulder as she walked back through the aisle to the double doors.  Once outside, Erica stood quietly in the expansive porch which opened out towards the parking lot, the noise from the chapel's interior drowned out.  Away from the source of his discomfort, Finnick found himself confident enough to pick his head up from her shoulder, and examine the scenery.

Snow was falling gently in sporadic flakes that trickled down from the sky.  Finnick stared out into the night with an almost vacant expression, sucking on a few fingers absent-mindedly while Erica subtly rocked him side to side on her hip.  He stuck his free paw out, and and pointed a tiny finger towards the streetlamps that lit up the parking lot.

"M-lights..."  He said to Erica, then returned his fingers to his mouth.  

"Yep, lights"  She replied, languidly pacing back and forth in front of the parking lot.  She watched as Finnick opened his mouth skyward, catching a snowflake directly on his tongue as if it were a learned method of staying hydrated.  He leaned his head back against her shoulder, this time not out of timidness, but just because she was warm.

"Lights."  he said again, yawning and allowing Erica to stroke his headfur.

 

~<{0}>~

 

Once the service began, Finnick sat between Nick and Erica, feeling confused yet content.  Pastor Devoss's booming voice captured his attention, and he listened intently, even though he hardly understood a word.

At some point in the evening, a feminine voice began to sing.  Finnick's ears pricked up, and every fiber of his being trembled.  The voice was so pure, and so beautiful, that it reverberated deep inside him.  Then the choir started.  He had no idea what they were saying, but it stuck firmly in his mind, fusing itself into his memory.  Everything around him was so profound, and at that moment, he had never felt more real, or more alive.

Eventually, Erica picked him up and carried him to the front of the chapel, Julian and Nick in tow.  He was handed over to gigantic paws that held him gently, like a valuable piece of glass.  The booming voice came again, and one of the gigantic paws covered his forehead.  It was wet, and when Finnick blinked water out of his eyes, he was looking up into the warm, green eyes of the giant.  Finnick stared back, not the least bit afraid.  Instead, Stan's gaze seemed to empower him, giving him a strange sense of fearlessness, like he was looking into a burning bush.

Later that night, on the drive back to the cabin, Finnick sat contemplatively, reliving the last two hours.  He looked outside into the starry winter landscape of Alto, and saw with a jolt of amazement, a pattern of lights in the shape of a five pointed star on the side of one of the mountains.  It looked so unnatural, yet it was clearly there.  

"That's the star they shine around Christmastime!"  Nick explained, noticing where Finnick's attention was turned to.  "They have a bunch of lights on the side of the mountain that they turn on at night!"

Finnick watched the star until it was out of sight.  Whatever had happened back at the chapel had somehow made him understand that he really was in a new world, and that he was a part of a family.  All the memories of his former life suddenly seemed so distant, and vague now.  He looked around the car, and for the first time in his life, felt truly happy.

 

 ~<{0}>~

 

"Open wide, sweetie.  C'mon, don't fight me."

Finnick shuddered and jerked his head away.  Erica knelt in front of him in their cabin with a tiny toothbrush in one paw, desperately trying to coax Finnick into allowing her to brush his teeth.  She raised it once more, and looked at Finnick with an almost pleading stare.

"Nick's waiting for you so daddy can tell you both a story,"  Erica said, as Finnick reluctantly opened his mouth again, and cringed as the bristles ran over his teeth, "so let's hurry up and get done."

Nick was changing into pajamas behind her, watching Finnick finally climb up onto the stepstool in front of the sink, and spit out his toothpaste.  He sincerely hoped that tonight was the only night on this trip that he had to wear his suit.  His skin still itched.

As he hopped up onto the mattress, the door opened and Jackson entered, still wearing his own suit, and carrying under his arm a thick, leather bound book.

"Hey, buddy!"  Jackson said to Nick, whose face lit up when he saw him.  The tough, old fox sat down at the foot of the bed, and set the book down on his lap.

"Julian's on his way.  His mother's interrogating him about his last field op."  he said almost apologetically as Erica pulled Finnick's pajamas from out of her duffel bag.  

She laughed brightly while Finnick steadied himself on her shoulders in order to step into the cotton pants.

"As long as he escapes in time to say goodnight to his kids before they fall asleep."  she replied, while Nick lay on his back, staring at the ceiling fan and playing with the toes on one footpaw.

"What are you going to read to us, granddad?"  Nick asked excitedly, noticing the book on Jackson's lap.  

"An old story that I read to your father, and my father read to me, and his father read to him.  Now its your dad's turn to read it to you."  Jackson answered with a subtle tone of nostalgia.  He looked over his shoulder at the window, watching for any sign of the back door of the house opening.

Finnick's head popped free from the collar of his pajama top, and he hopped up onto the bed with Nick, crawling forward until he was settled in under the covers with his head against a pillow.  Erica joined them, and once she was settled in, Finnick decided that his mother's lap was more comfortable.

The door opened again, and Julian appeared.  He let out a sigh of relief, and placed his jacket on a hook by the door.  Jackson regarded him with a knowing stare.

"You got away!"  He said with a raised eyebrow.  Julian nodded while he shed his boots.

"Mom finally decided she heard enough about me sleeping in the woods for three days."  He replied, taking his father's place on the edge of the bed.  Jackson held out the book to him, and Julian's eyes widened slightly.  He glanced at his father, and a smile crept across his face.

"I was wondering if this year was going to be the year."  he said to Jackson, who laughed and turned the doorknob.

"Goodnight, Wildes!"  Jackson said with a wave, then he shut the door and was gone.

Julian tugged off his shirt and trousers, folded them up on top of his duffel bag, then shuffled over to the bed and climbed in next to Nick.  He picked the book up again, and showed the cover to Erica.

" _Ramiel?"_ She read out loud, while Finnnick played with the fabric of her nightshirt.  Julian opened it, and flipped a couple of pages forward, examining the book's well-preserved state.  It was a relatively short story, long enough to make a compelling tale, but brief enough to be completed in a single evening.

"I remember when he read this to me,"  he said to both Nick and Erica, "I was just a little older than you, Nick."

Julian shifted his weight slightly, so that everyone could see the pages clearly.  Nick tucked himself under his father's arm, and listened as Julian began to read.  Finnick could scarcely grasp what was happening in the story, but he stayed awake for all of it.

Soon, he was half-asleep, and Julian's baritone was the only thing he could hear.


	3. July Burns Bright

The sun burned like a massive, otherworldly torch over Savannah Central.  The cold, winter city from seven months ago had overtime turned into a convoluted mess of mammals trying to cope with heat.  Even at night, the pavement and concrete jungle still reflected the heat it had absorbed so well throughout the day, it rendered the cool breezes pointless.  Despite the brutal heat, the inhabitants of Savannah Central's suburbs always found ways to adapt.

Little white lines danced across the concrete pool floor, rippling like lightning.  They formed a perpetually mobile pattern beneath Finnick as he swam.  Between breaths, he would focus on them to keep fatigue at bay.  He kicked desperately, valiantly propelling himself through the bright blue water of the Marine Base Camp Riley pool.  He could feel himself move under his own power, and it despite the exhaustion in his limbs and racing heart, he felt empowered.  Erica’s paws held him by the middle to keep him on the surface while she stood in the shallows by the steps, gently walking alongside Finnick while he attempted to swim from one end of the kid’s pool to another.

Once Finnick reached the concrete edge, he coughed up a small mouthful of water and stood on the concrete steps with the water at waist height.

“There you go!  You’ve almost got it!”  Erica exclaimed, while Finnick wiped his eyes and smiled excitedly back at her.  He giggled and leaned forward into Erica’s paws again, where she rested him on her hip.  Finnick held onto one of the straps of her swimsuit top for a moment, then leaned back out into the water again, indicating his desire to swim again.

Erica repeated the process, and waded the ten feet across the pool to the other side with him.  This time, she released her paws slightly, but kept them an inch away.  To her relief and amazement, Finnick continued to propel himself through the water without immediate need of assistance, albeit haphazardly. 

When he reached the steps again, Finnick stood in the shallows, breathing heavily, but with a bright, happy grin.  He had felt way he had moved through the water under his own power, and it excited him.  No matter how exhausting and uncomfortable this ways, part of him thoroughly enjoyed it. 

“You swam!”  Erica said encouragingly, “was that so bad?”

Finnick managed a tired giggle, holding up his index finger to his mother.  “One!”  He said, indicating that he wanted to make one more lap.    He leaned into Erica’s paws again, and this time he managed to paddle all the way across without his mother having to take hold of him.  When his footpaws touched concrete again, he indicated that he had energy for another lap, then another, and another.  Nearby, Katy stood holding Emily in the shallows, both ferrets watching Finnick’s progress.

Twenty minutes later, Finnick had completely worn himself out.  With a soft grunt and a shake of his head, he decided that he had seen enough water for one day.

In the seven months that Finnick had lived with the Wildes, he had transformed into a healthy, vibrant toddler with an infectious laugh that forever endeared mammals to him.  He was still quiet as ever, and despite having learned to speak more, Finnick mostly communicated through gestures.  Once the weather began warming up, his new family had finally begun to see the change in his appearance and demeanor after three months of silence from a traumatized infant.  Finnick looked dramatically healthier and happier, and taken on an upbeat personality that never failed to show his love for the mammals who had saved life.  When Nick would return home from school, Finnick would greet him with an enthusiastic hug, then would spend the rest of the evening waiting for Julian to come home, and hug him too.  Finnick laughed the loudest, loved the deepest, and had the brightest, most vibrant personality imaginable.

At night, however, Finnick was a different mammal.  Even after three months, nights were often turbulent and harrowing times that tested Erica and Julian's resolve.  Finnick had suffered from severe night terrors throughout the first few weeks, and even after those appeared to subside, he would struggle to fall asleep at all.  No matter how tired he was, it would take him thoroughly wearing himself out in order to sleep soundly.  In Finnick's mind, the dreams varied from night to night.  Icy wind would sometimes tear at his fur, and he would find himself suspended in midair in the middle of a stormy sea.  Other times ominous, otherworldly figures would rush violently around the room and throw heavy objects around, causing Finnick to sit up in bed, petrified into motionlessness.  Massive swarms of insects pounded the pitch dark windows, and it would take endless reminders from Erica that it was just wind rattling the glass to calm him down.  

Finnick had developed such a profound attachment to Nick, that it he would only sleep soundly once they started sharing a bed.  There was just something about Nick's presence that comforted him, and the nightmares would become less severe.  In the storm would rage inside Finnick's mind, Nick's voice was a lighthouse guiding him to shore.

Today was different.  It was Erica's day off, and something was happening that she had been waiting on for the last three months.  Julian was coming home after being suddenly whisked away to North Africa in late February.  They initially had no knowledge on how long they would be gone, but to everyone's relief, an Army unit was taking their place, and Julian's battalion was rotating home after four months.  Erica and Nick had been through this before, and they knew what to expect, but Finnick however, was confused and upset by Julian's sudden departure.  A week later, he was stunned and excited to hear Julian's voice coming out of the phone late one evening.  He talked longer than he ever had before, curiously asking his father where he was.

"I'm in the desert, buddy!"  Julian had said loudly over the commotion of a few hundred canines in an echoing hangar, "I'm in a place called Samalia!"

"The desert's HOT."  Finnick stated in reply, as if he had just made a profound discovery.  He leaned into the phone that Erica held out to him, still only vaguely understanding that Julian was not inside the phone itself.

Julian laughed softly, knowing that "hot" was an understatement, "Yep, it's really hot here!"

"You fight the bad guys?"  Finnick asked casually, recalling Nick's description of their father's job.

"Yep!"  Julian answered, his voice partially drowned out by the hard rock blaring in the background, "I'm fighting the bad guys.  I'll be home in a few months okay, buddy?  I love you!"

"K.  Love yew."  Finnick answered nonchalantly, then hopped down off his chair.  Erica put the phone back to her ear, laughing brightly.

"I think he understands," she said optimistically, watching Finnick lie down on the living room carpet to play with the strands of fur on his tail, " so what are you doing now?"

Julian took a short moment to respond.  Finally, his voice crackled back through, tinged with dry, honest humor.

"I'm...suntanning naked on the tarmac.  Fighting bad guys can wait till tonight."

 

 ~<{0}>~

 

Bus doors cracked open, and mammals in fatigues poured out, carrying heavy canvas duffel bags.  Julian slowly made his way to the front, pressed in from all sides by mammals desperate to set foot on home turf.  Eventually, the line began moving, and cool evening air hit him full force.   It was light out, and the sun still had a short ways to go before setting.  His first thought was of how truly amazing it smelled, as opposed to the constant odor of sweat, cordite, and waste that he had been immersed in lately.    

Suddenly, a small, tan figure ran out of the assembled crowd towards him.  Julian stopped in his tracks, knelt down, and scooped Finnick into his arms.  Finnick held tightly to Julian's neck, and buried his face in his shoulder.  The last three months had confused, upset, and worried him, but none of that mattered anymore.  His father was home, and he was perfectly happy to hold onto him like this for eternity.  Nick followed close behind, and found himself wrapped tightly in Julian's other arm, who laughed adoringly, grateful to be home.  All around them, families were being reunited.  Some with wives and kids, and others with girlfriends and fiances.  The younger mammals were usually greeted by their parents and closest friends, some of whom had prepared elaborate welcome home signs.

Erica knelt down beside them, and wrapped her arms around all three of them, turning the Wilde family into a bundle of intertwined arms and reunited hearts.  Julian felt for one of her paws with his own, and once he found it, he gave a gentle squeeze as if to say  _I'll kiss you as soon as they let go of me._

When Nick and Finnick finally released their father, Erica took advantage of the opportunity to fling her arms around her husband's neck, and kiss him full on the mouth.  Julian returned the kiss, and allowed himself to get lost in her, the beast inside his chest roaring in triumph.  Nick and Finnick held onto their parent's legs, laughing and talking among themselves about how dusty their father's uniform was.

"C'mon, the Markins are meeting us at Mueller hill."  Erica said finally, gesturing her family towards the car.  

Nick caught sight of Caleb nearby, holding tightly to a tall male coyote.  Their eyes met, and they exchanged mutual nods in greeting before being obscured by the crowd.

 

~<{0}>~

 

Mueller hill was an expansive, grassy mound in the earth situated between the suburbs outlying Savannah Central and downtown.  It was one of Zootopia's several parks, and marked the barrier between the residential and business districts of the city.  Camp Riley was a short distance to the west, beyond the suburbs.  It's water tower could be seen in the distance, along with occasional helicopters silhouettes.

Scott Markin had grown his upper lip fur into a crisp, professional looking mustache that only added to his already rangy, southern gentlemammal look.  He greeted Julian with an enthusiastic hug, coupled with several firm slaps on the back as they made their way through the treed-in parking lot and towards the slope.  Katy seemed more relaxed than anyone had seen her in months, likely due in part to the fact it was Scott's turn to carry Emily.  She was strapped to his front in a harness, sound asleep despite the overwhelming din of nearby traffic and passerby.

Nick and Ronny ran out ahead of their parents, not racing, but just trying to get to the top quickly.  When they reached the top of the hill, all three children stopped in their tracks and took in the spectacular sight before them.

Zootopia’s looming skyline glowed brilliantly in the orange sky.  The sun was a vibrant yellow ball partially hidden by one of the towers, and looked like a slice of lemon was clinging to its side.  Every twinkling light and every window stood out like the stars that were beginning to appear in the deep, navy blue sky that was slowly overtaking the orange one closer to the horizon.  Families dotted the grassy landscape around them, which spread out before them for several hundred feet towards the suburbs.  

A cool breeze ruffled Finnick’s headfur, blowing the blonde bangs off his forehead.  He felt the same sense of amazement that he had in the chapel the night he was baptized, but without the shock.  Tonight there was only contentment and gratitude.

“I could live to be one hundred, and I’d never get tired of this view.”  Julian said, lying down on the grass next to Nick.  Feeling strangely youthful, he stared up into the darker portion of the sky, which was dotted with faint stars.  The breeze blew over his strong, yet war-weary form, soothing it like an invisible massage.   This was one of the rare moments that Julian could completely unwind and feel young again.  No gunfire, no sweaty bodies, no idiotic command, and no sense of urgency.  It was just him, his family, and his friends enjoying life on top of a hill with the best view in the world.  

Erica plopped down next to him, and began teasingly rolling her tail over his muzzle.  Julian did not react at first, and instead continued to stare up at the gathering twilight.  The longer he resisted, the wider her smirk became.  Scott sat right next to Julian with Katy on this left, and stared down at his friend with a knowing glint in his eye.

"She's gonna keep doing that unless you do something about, Jules."  He laughed, bouncing Emily on his lap, "you gonna take that lying down?"

Nick, Finnick, and Ronny were lazily rolling down the hill, then running back up in a sort of giddy daze, while Katy took advantage of her baby-free moment to follow their progress in case they misjudged a tumble.  Being smallest of the three, Finnick took longer to reach the top each time, and was beginning to show his fatigue.  

It did not take long for Julian to realize what Erica was trying to get him to do.  With a quick peck on her cheek, he casually allowed himself to roll forward in the grass, then tumble down the slope towards Finnick.   He scooped the giggling fennec up onto his shoulders, and once he was upright, Julian ran back up the hill.   After two more trips up and down the slope, Julian flopped back down on the grass where he was, with Finnick laughing uncontrollably in his lap.  Nick, Ronny, and Katy joined them, both kids having decided they were too covered in grass and too itchy to continue.

Finnick clambered off his father's lap, his headfur windblown, and filled with grass clippings.  Nick stood up next to him, and as he was brushing the dirt out of Finnick's headfur, they became perfectly situated in front of the dramatic backdrop.  Unable to resist the urge, Julian snapped a picture of the two of them, arm in arm with the Zootopia skyline in the background.  Until the sun finally went down and it became too dark to see, Julian intermittently captured moment after moment, such as Ronny and Nick wrestling in the grass, Finnick doing cartwheels, and Scott and Katy entertaining Emily.

With an echoing crack that silenced the assembled mammals, the first firework went off.  It exploded far overhead in a shower of red and yellow sparks, illuminating the landscape beneath it.  Shadows lengthened momentarily, giving the hill an eerily colorful appearance.  Slowly at first, more fireworks followed, picking up their pace with each passing minute.  The illuminated towers of downtown stood taller than ever, turning colors with the sparks that exploded in the sky.  For half an hour, Zootopia was alight with the thunderous din that captured the entire city's attention.  Everywhere, mammals were looking outside their cars, homes, and offices to catch a glimpse of the annual display.  Whether or not they lingered to watch, for thirty minutes the city celebrated in silence while the sky roared.

Outside a grocery store several miles away, a young, off-duty police officer in a paused by his car to watch the distant fireworks.  The burly water buffalo leaned against the frame, his keys in one hoof, and a plastic bag holding a case of beer in the other.  He had experienced the very worst of this city in the two years he had spent here, but nothing could make him dislike it.  Nearby, a young, athletic snowy leopard in his early twenties watched as well, his paws thrust in the pockets of his jeans.

The last firework detonated loudly, echoing throughout the city.  The sky fell silent again, and as if on cue, sirens began wailing once more.  After exchanging knowing glances with the snowy leopard, the buffalo let out a sigh, resolving never to take a night off for granted.  As he pulled out of the parking space, he suddenly realized that he had seen that mammal before, and he pondered the oddly familiar features as he drove.  His accent had been ever so subtly tinged, like he had spoken a foreign language many years ago.  

 _Slavic_ _, maybe?_

Unable to remember anything more than that, the buffalo put it out of his mind.


	4. The Strangest Things

March 26th, 1995.

 

Cicadas chirped noisily in the densely tangled deciduous forest behind the Markins' house.  Their humble, cozy home was situated on the edge of a stretch of woods about one hundred yards across, separating their on-base neighborhood from a large, open airfield.  A runway sat a half mile beyond that, shimmering in the dying heat at the end of a long, brutally hot summer day.

Thin swirls of colorful dust drifted upward off the concrete patio, where Ronny sat with his sister, busy teaching her how to use sidewalk chalk.  Emily watched curiously as Ronny drew a crude, yet strangely intricate picture of a Huey Poison helicopter crossing in front of the setting sun.  Even at her age, she recognized the sight, having watched helicopters fly back and forth overhead on a daily basis, despite not understanding what they were.  She lazily dragged a stick of chalk half the length of her arm across the pavement, mostly just fascinated with the way it crumbled.  With her free paw, Emily pulled a lock of her straight, brown headfur across her cheek to chew on the strands.  Ronny quickly pulled the hair away, remembering his parents' instructions to prevent his sister from chewing on her own headfur.

With a hissing, creaking noise, the screen door opened behind them, and Katy emerged, drawing both kids' attention.  Behind her came Nick and Finnick, each carrying a plastic cup of water.  Finnick's headfur had been cut just short of his eyes again, after allowing it to grow so long he was having to brush it out of the way to see where he was going.  He had grown tremendously over the last few years, and his former malnourishment had faded way completely.

"Your mom and dad will pick you up tomorrow morning,"  Katy said to Nick and Finnick, then held out a glass of water to her son, "in the meantime, Dad's going to open up the grill.  Okay?"

Ronny nodded excitedly, depositing his chalk in its container as he stood up.  Behind him, Emily continued to draw with her headfur in her mouth again.  Seeing Finnick, she watched him closely until he looked back at her.  Emily blushed and giggled, turning her face away in embarrassment.

The evening steadily grew a deeper shade of blue as the smoke from Scott's grill floated skyward.  As the first stars were appearing, Ronny, Nick, and Finnick began exploring the woodline between their stretches of fence while they waited on Scott to call them back to the patio for dinner.  Katy watched them closely from the swingset, where she pushed Emily gently.

"Is it dead?"  Nick asked curiously, examining a cicada that lay motionless on the grass.  Crouching next to him, Ronny shrugged, "I think so.  Maybe he's molting."  He nudged it gently with a twig, only to find out that it was just a shell.  The exoskeleton rolled over with a tone of dull finality, rustling slightly in the grass as Ronny's twig nudged it a second time.  Beneath it, however, was the upside down cross-like form of a deceased dragonfly.

Both Nick and Ronny's eyes widened in surprise.  The dragonfly was enormous, and even in the glow of the floodlight Scott had mounted a few feet behind them, it was jet black all over.  For some inexplicable reason, Ronny could not bring himself to touch it with his twig.  Somehow, both he and Nick simultaneously got the strange sense that this insect should be left alone.

About thirty feet away, Finnick walked slowly along the woodline towards the corner of the chain-length fence, watching the lights from an F-19 Wasp streak overhead towards the unseen runway.  For several seconds, the sky was filled with the rolling thunder of the aircraft's afterburners, which glowed like twin blowtorches in the night.  Once he reached the end of the fence, Scott's voice echoed across the yard.  

The second Finnick turned back towards the glow of the patio light, he heard the faint snap of a thin branch breaking in the woods behind him.  He looked back over his shoulder nervously, certain he was feeling eyes on the back of his head.  Staring into the dark, wooded expanse, Finnick thought he saw the outline of a tall figure standing just on the other side of the first line of tangled bushes and roots, only ten feet away.  Fear flooded his mind, and he took a timid step backwards.  The figure-like shape ever so subtly grew closer, matching Finnick's backward movement.  Now, through a gap in the forest canopy where the light from the runway filtered through, Finnick could clearly make out the oval curvature of a hood, invisible eyes staring out of the pitch-black shape, directly at him.

"N-Nick...?"  Finnick called nervously, his voice trembling, "Ronny?"  

The figure moved again, this time not waiting for Finnick to do so first, footsteps crunching smoothly on dead leaves almost as if the figure were gliding over them.  A low, bone-chilling growl found its way to Finnick's ears, and he broke.  The figure suddenly began moving forward in earnest, and Finnick bolted for the safety of the patio, running as fast as he could.  He could still hear the footsteps behind him, and could feel the cold, piercing gaze on the back of his head all the way back.  When he skidded to a stop next to the patio door, he stood for several seconds in traumatized shock, his heart beating so loudly that Katy could hear it.  

"Danny, what's wrong?"  She asked gently, taking Finnick by the paw and pulling him close to her.  He looked back towards the woodline and saw nothing, which did not reassure him.  He was so terrified he could not catch his breath, and began to cry, simply as an effect of the raw fear and adrenaline overdose.  Thankful that Nick and Ronny were inside washing their paws, and were not seeing him like this, he allowed Katy to hold him close until he stopped.

"I-there was a...a..." was all Finnick could manage in reply as he pulled himself together, realizing that no monster had followed him from the woodline.  Still, his eyes lingered on the spot, and all he could picture was the figure standing on the edge; tall, and eerily silent like the reaper, and with a sinister gaze that was cold as death.

"It's okay, c'mere.  Let's go inside and wash your paws before you eat."  Katy said encouragingly, picking him up and carrying him through the patio door.  Finnick buried his face in her shoulder, refusing to look back at the woods as the cool air conditioning enveloped him.  When Nick and Ronny appeared from behind the kitchen counter to dry off their paws, Finnick quickly wiped his eyes and composed himself, gesturing to be put down.  Once he was back with Nick and Ronny, Katy approached Scott, concerned by Finnick's abject terror at something unseen.  It could have been a figment of his imagination, but the pure, raw fear in his eyes gave Katy the strangest suspicion that there was something else at play.

"What was Danny upset about back there?"  Scott asked her, before she could bring up the subject as he cleaned the grill.

"I don't know,"  Katy replied, her eyes on the woodline, "he couldn't get the words out.  I think something scared him over there."

Scott followed her gaze to the back fence, and frowned.  He knew MP's sometimes patrolled along the airfield, but that was one hundred yards away through thick, tangled woods.  Inwardly, he figured that Daniel must have imagined something, or seen a cicada move and gotten spooked by it.  Nonetheless, he decided to reassure his wife thoroughly.  He disappeared inside, and Katy followed him to their bedroom, where she watched apprehensively as Scott loaded his handgun, and tucked it underneath his shirt as he passed Nick, Ronny, Emily, and Finnick at the dinner table.  Scott ventured out into the backyard, his flashlight swinging back and forth into the woodline, while Katy continued to watch from the patio door.

Back and forth he paced, looking for any sign of a mammal's presence.  Frowning, he kept his gun at low ready while he scanned the trees, keeping his index finger out of the trigger well.  After he had thoroughly scanned the entire length of fence, Scott turned back to the house, shining his flashlight one last time into the trees.  He kissed Katy on the cheek, and gently pulled her inside before turning the patio light off.

"Don't worry, sweetheart,"  he said reassuringly as he locked the door shut, "we're okay."

Katy nodded, feeling relieved and secure.  Resolving not to dwell on it, she joined her family at the table.

 

~<{0}>~

 

In the dim light of their living room, Julian and Erica's lustful breathing nearly drowned out the soft folk music that floated out of the stereo.  After a much-needed night out, they had returned home for some alone time.  Intimacy was becoming harder to accomplish now that Nick was nearly nine years old, so they took advantage of the Markin's willingness to provide the opportunities for them to revisit the days before Nick was conceived, as long as they gladly returning the favor.  They were not usually the type to place a heavy emphasis on searching for date nights away from their kids, but tonight was well-earned.  Julian had just gotten back from a two week long training exercise in the southwestern desert, and Katy had practically ordered him to take Erica out, promising to watch their kids for a night.  He had been all to eager to oblige.

The ceiling fan hummed steadily overhead, ruffling the clothes that lay scattered across the carpet.  The blinds were closed, and the two foxes lay huddled in each other's arms on the living room carpet in front of a camping lantern Julian had used as a clumsy, yet successful attempt at romantic lighting.  Erica stared up at the ceiling, not thinking about anything in particular.  Her mind was contentedly blank, and she was utterly worn out from Julian's boundless energy.  Right now, Erica was more than happy to just lie here in his arms, and talk about anything under the sun, even if it was mostly about Julian's work, no matter how detailed.

"You know what wearing a MOPP for two weeks on end is like?"  Julian rambled, slurring slightly from the liquor he and Erica had been consuming all evening. "it's supposed to shield ya from chemical attacks and shit, but it's really like your own personal panic attack.  You're trapped in that thing, which smells nasty as  _fuck_  from your own sweat and bodily fluids, since most of us don't wear anything under it.  The boots feel like you're wading in dead fish, and when shit happens, you gotta put the mask on and tighten everything up.  If you rip a hole in it, it's useless, and if you puke, you'd choke on it and die.  We're always doing these drills and shit, where they call out  _gas! gas! gas!_  and you gotta put all that shit on only to lie there hating life for three minutes."

He paused and let his mouth dangle open halfway.  Erica shifted in his arms so that she was resting with her right arm on the carpet over his head, and her left across his chest.

"Then ya gotta take a dump,"  Julian continued, gesturing with his right paw, "and if you can't find a honey bucket fast enough, you sometimes have to  _go._   You just... _go._ "  Julian said these last words with a strange emphasis, like he was giving a simple set of instructions.

Erica giggled drunkenly, fuzzily wondering how her mother would react if she knew her daughter was this comfortable engaging in such profane topics of discussion.  Over the last several years, Erica had tirelessly listened to story after story from Julian's career, usually while lying in bed together with their clothes scattered on the floor around them.  Since then, she had gradually accepted her comfort with subjects other found disgusting as proof of her inner dirty girl.  The truth of the matter was that she liked hearing stories about combat, and all of the weird and often disturbing details in between.

"Every night,"  Julian continued after a brief pause, "like, every night...I would think  _dirty_  things about you, Erica."  He flashed her a fake snarl.

" _Dirty_ things."  

Miniature electric shocks rippled through Erica as Julian traced his left paw down her bare fur, his calloused palm moving across her lower back towards her rump.  When he gripped the base of her tail in his fist and gave a gentle squeeze, Erica gasped out loud and clung tighter to her husband, her claws digging gently into his skin.

"That tickles!"  She exclaimed, pressing her body against his.  Julian smiled mischievously, and released her tail only to move his paw lower.  Unable to stop herself, Erica leaped up and straddled him.  From Julian's perspective, she looked like a goddess in the lamplight.  He was completely at her mercy.

"You've had your break,"  She said seductively, "time to get back to work."  

 

~<{0}>~

 

Scott stayed awake long after Katy had fallen asleep, absorbed in a copy of  _The Adventures of Sherlock Homes_ in the glow of tiny flashlight.

As he read, Scott's thoughts drifted to Finnick, and Erica's description of sheer, honest terror in his eyes.   Not wanting to worry too much, he took his eyes off of the book, and gazed out the window to his right, where he could see the backyard clearly, including the woodline.  Nothing stirred, apart from an insect that flew noisily up from the grass next to the fence and vanished into the night sky.  Katy stirred beside him, breathing a contented sigh.  Emily was curled up in her arms, snuggled up close to her mother's breast for warmth and security.  Keeping his eyes on the window, Scott took a moment to caress each of their cheeks, quietly giving thanks for their presence. 

A faint scurrying sound echoed from somewhere in the hallway.  Thinking it was just one of the kids on their way to the bathroom, Scott lay down with his head propped up on his right elbow, so he could still look outside and read simultaneously.  The creaking of the bathroom door just on the other side of the hall echoed through, and Scott turned his attention back towards the book.  Several minutes later, he realized he had not heard a flush, or the sound of the bathroom door opening again.  Daniel had developed a comical habit of falling asleep on the toilet in the time Scott had known him, and he considered getting up and checking just in case.  Three seconds after this thought entered his head, he heard a child's voice coming from the hallway.  Unable to discern what was being said, Scott sat up, deciding to investigate.  Right as he was pulling the covers off his legs, a strangled, terrified scream came from the other side of his bedroom door.

Fully alert, Scott threw himself off the bed and dashed to the door.  Opening it, he saw nothing but a short, empty hallway, with a window on the left end, and a short, carpeted staircase on the right.  Suddenly he caught sight of a tan-furred figure curled up against the wall underneath the windowsill at the end of the hall.  Finnick was trembling uncontrollably and his eyes staring wide and terrified into the light.  Seeing Scott kneel down in front of him, he picked his head up and pointed at the staircase, trembling so violently that his voice shook.

"Make it go away!"  He said loudly, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, "it wont go away!"

"C'mere, bud,"  Scott replied soothingly, picking Finnick up and carrying him to his bedroom, "you just had a bad dream."  Even as he said this, Scott's eyes lingered on the darkened staircase.

Katy was awake, and so was Emily.  The ferret mother watched anxiously as Scott closed the door behind him, holding Finnick, who clung tightly to him with his face buried in Scott's shoulder.

"What happened?"  She asked, sitting up with her back against the headboard with Emily in her lap.

Scott deposited Finnick next to her, who snuggled up against her, his face a picture of shock.  "He had a bad dream.  I just think he should sleep in our room tonight."  he said, sliding under the covers also.  Katy seemed reassured, and a few minutes later, the house was silent again.  Once Finnick, Katy, and Emily were all sound asleep, however, Scott crept out the door again.  This time, his gun was in his paw.

He went from room to room throughout the house, clearing every nook and cranny.  Eventually, he came to the conclusion that nothing was out of the ordinary, and the doors and windows were still locked shut.  Still not wanting to let his guard down, Scott returned to his room quietly, and lay back down.  Instead of putting the gun back in his sock drawer, he flicked the safety on and tucked it under the mattress to this right, between the box spring and with the grip pointed outward so he could grab it in a hurry if need be.  Settling back down to reading, the rangy ferret propped himself up on his elbow like before.  As sleep started to overtake him, he faintly saw a flashlight beam sweeping through the trees from the other side of the woods.

Half an hour later, Scott was sleeping soundly.  He did not notice the burning, roaring fighter jet that streaked towards the ground in the distance, leaving a trail of thick, black smoke behind it.  A soft boom echoed through the night, followed by sirens.

 

~<{0}>~

 

 

Loud, aggressive music echoed throughout Camp Riley's infantry barracks, fueling an already wound up population towards new levels of mindless shenanigans.  Lance Corporal Damien Kleating waded through a sea of beer cans on his way to the smoke pit, dodging drunk Marines left and right.  The wolf skirted around a Marine with liquor bottles duct taped to his paws, who was chugging both simultaneously while spilling half of the contents down his front and back.  Catching sight of a group containing his closest friends, Kleating joined their circle while a tattooed coyote began repeatedly throwing a tire against the ground.  He would pause to down half a beer can, then immediately pick the tire up and slam it down again.  Each time he was greeted by rambunctious roars of approval from his peers.

Kleating paused to watch the spectacle, too sober to shout like the others, but not enough to keep from laughing.  On the balcony above him, a hyena was dangling a dip can from a fishing rod over the Marines below, and one inebriated red fox whirled around like he had seen an apparition.  Before he could snatch it out of the air, the hyena pulled the rod back, leading the fox on a brief yet intense pursuit that ended with him colliding with the wall, the dip can finally secure in his grasp.

 _Fuck..._   Kleating thought to himself,   _I'm going to miss the Marine Corps._

He and another sober Marine both caught sight of two MP's sprinting along the road past the barracks, heading straight for the aquatic center and pool.  Their curiosity piqued, both Marines walked together across the grass towards the sidewalk, where they could see the MP's trajectory.  A few hundred feet down the road was a large indoor arena, which housed the pool and gym.  Faintly, Kleating could see the Mp's jogging up the front steps, where one of the front doors stood ajar.

Thinking some extremely stupid and intoxicated Marine had broken in, Kleating and his companion turned back around and returned to the smoke pit.  The coyote had stripped his skivvies off to wave them around like a flag while two other Marines jousted with broomsticks.

The music was just loud enough to drown out the sirens that followed several minutes later.

 

~<{0}>~

 

Addison Kaliroy peered into the dark lobby of the gym, frowning in confusion and annoyance.  He was a twenty four year old dingo, and the son of an Australian immigrant, which seemed to make him by comparison to his peers, a particularly laid back MP, and not the type to be anal about infantry partying hard on the weekends.  This though, was just stupid, and more than a little bit dangerous.  A drunk eighteen year old canine could easily fall down a staircase, or into the pool, or slip on the concrete locker room floor and crack his head open.  There was no reason for anyone to be pulling this shit this late at night.

"Dispatch, 68.  The door is ajar."  said Kaliroy's partner, a twenty-two year old hyena named Alonzo.  Kaliroy raised his sidearm and turned on the flashlight mounted underneath the barrel.  The beam fell on the empty desk of the deserted lobby.  He swung it left and right, looking for any sign of a drunk eighteen year old, like maybe spilled beer on the tile.  The hyena was just drawing his weapon as well, when a scream echoed from somewhere inside the facility.

Both MP's looked at each other in grim understanding.  Alonzo quickly keyed his radio again.  "Dispatch,68.  Send us another unit and EMS.  There are sounds of distress coming from the structure."

They dashed inside, their weapons raised as flashlights.  The scream came again, coming from the basketball court, sending them running down a hallway to their right.  Kaliroy flicked on every light switch he passed as they went, keeping his footsteps quiet so he could hear another scream if it came.  When he rounded the last corner, he had gained far too much momentum and slammed clumsily into the wall, having not seen the turn approaching in the dark.  An eerie hum greeted them once they reached the large indoor basket ball court, and their boots slapped and squeaked noisily on the floor.  Shining their flashlights all around, they saw nothing, except for the air conditioning unit that was humming loudly in the expansive room.

Kaliroy was just about to wonder out loud where the source of the screaming was, when a light flicked on behind the door to a hallway that led to the locker rooms.  Relieved, Kaliroy gestured to his partner, and they dashed back across the court.  As they approached, the light flicked off again.   _Not the time for that, dickhead._   Kaliroy thought,  _just get back to the barracks before you hurt yourself._ His left hand grasped the cold doorknob, and he wrenched it open so that Alonzo could enter first.  Following right behind, Kaliroy's hackles raised.

Footsteps pounded the ground forty feet ahead at the end of the dark hallway.  Wasting no time, they gave chase again, and were instantly caught in the strangest phenomena of their lives.  The fluorescent lights overhead began flicking on and off rapidly, giving their movement a strobe effect.  Dumbfounded and beginning to question what was really going on, Kaliroy rounded the corner with Alonzo, and entered the locker rooms.

The lights were staying on in here.  A few abandoned, empty bottles of shampoo lay scattered around, and there was a distinct odor of chlorine, sweat, and body spray in the air.  Directly to Kaliroy's right, a photograph of a naked vixen posing seductively was taped to the front of a locker.

 As they moved past the lockers towards the door to the pool, Kaliroy noticed Alonzo looking down at the concrete.  Following his partner's gaze, he saw no footprints ahead, and he realized they were both leaving distinct, dark brown bootprints on the dry pavement behind them.  Before he could think on this, they pushed the door open and stepped out onto the pool deck.

The streetlights outside filtered in through the tall, wall-sized windows on the far end of the pool, giving the glass-smooth water a strange orange glare.  The kid's pool was situated directly behind the main one, had been drained for cleaning.  There was plenty of light to clearly see that the room was empty, which left Kaliroy and Alonzo once again confused.  By now, they were both also starting to feel apprehensive, wondering if someone was playing an elaborate prank on them.

Alonzo took a few steps forwards to the pool's edge.  Staring down into the deep end, he could not see the bottom even with the glow of the streetlights.  Kaliroy hung back, staring around with a mounting sense of awareness.  He could hear nothing bur eerie silence, apart from his and Alonzo's breath.  As if on cue, a buzzing sound cause the MPs to look up, startled.

A dragonfly was frantically hitting the wall-sized window in an attempt to escape.  Kaliroy and Alonzo stared incredulously at it, not knowing what to think.  Looking back down at the pool, Alonzo frowned.  There was a shape down there that was darker than the rest of the water.  He could not tell if it was on the bottom or not, but it was a distinct mass of something.  It had not been there thirty seconds ago.  Kaliroy's paw frantically shook his shoulder, and when he looked up, his heart stopped.

Two seconds passed, and they both stared into the eyes that would haunt their dreams for the rest of their lives.  A sudden, unseen force grabbed Alonzo's front, and yanked him forward into the water with a shout of surprise and terror.  He hit the water with such an impact that water immediately forced its way down his throat.  Kaliroy shouted and dove after him, clinging to his partner's body armor.  The hyena's roar of seething rage came out as a muffled, bubbly moan under the surface of the pitch black pool, as he furiously kicked and stomped at the head of an unseen figure.

Kaliroy worked his arms around his partner's torso, and desperately began swimming upwards again, slowed by the weight of their boots, duty belt, and body armor.  The water around them rippled violently as something splashed in to the pool behind them.  Two strong paws grabbed both Kaliroy and Alonzo by their vests, and with a desperate shout of relief, they finally broke the surface.  The newcomer roughly dragged them both up onto the deck, coughing and sputtering.  Thinking their rescuer was one of their fellow MPs,  Kaliroy looked up to see a complete stranger.  Alonzo barely had time to vomit a stomachful of chlorinated water onto the pavement before the newcomer pulled them both to their footpaws with a sense of urgency.

"Stick close to me.  We need to get out of here, NOW."  Came the granite voice. Kaliroy and Alonzo scrambled to their footpaws and took off after him, both of them strangely having held onto their sidearms the entire time.  They reached the emergency exit, and the newcomer was about to throw his weight into it when he paused, his gaze directed at something behind them.  

Kaliroy's blood froze.  With a furious shout, he and Alonzo opened fire with everything they had, filling the pool with a deafening, echoing din.  Warm air hit them as they door burst open, and they sprinted out onto the sidewalk while the newcomer threw the door closed.  Blue and red lights flashed all around as Kaliroy and Alonzo staggered towards an ambulance, penetrating their veil of adrenaline.  As paramedics surrounded them, Kaliroy's eyes met Alonzo's.  They knew what they had seen, and no one would believe them.  No one except their rescuer, whoever he was. 

It was only now that they realized the entire base seemed to be in a state of emergency.  Sirens wailed in the distance, and there was an orange glow emanating from the direction of the airfield.  More MP's in full kit were approaching the front door of the gym, and helicopters roared overhead.

Eventually it dawned on Kaliroy that their rescuer was nowhere to be seen.  After closing the emergency exit behind him, he had vanished.  Alonzo was equally baffled, and in a deeper state of shock.  He had felt something grab him from the front, and had felt his boots impact someone's head as he fought his attacker.  What horrified and traumatized him the most was what they had seen right before that had happened.

Several MP's carried a limp figure out of the emergency exit.  He was bloody from head to toe, and from their vantage point, Kaliroy and Alonzo could not tell what species it was.  It simply looked young, and it was naked.   A curious thought struck Kaliroy, and he wondered if that figure was who they had heard screaming, and whoever tried to drown Alonzo.

The paramedics and their superiors thought their claims were caused by an overdose of adrenaline, and they had started seeing things in the dark.  Luckily, they were not punished, and were reassured that they would be cleared in the shooting.  While they were waiting to be released from the hospital, Alonzo heard their rescuers voice again.  He sat up curiously, and watched their silhouettes through his door.  The newcomer was talking to one of the doctors, a young female lioness.

"Are they okay?"  The newcomer said in his granite-like voice.

"They're in shock."  the lioness replied, "the hyena swallowed a lot of pool water too.  He's still throwing up."

"As long as they're okay." the newcomer said simply.

"And who are you?" the lioness answered curiously.  There was a short pause, followed by the sound of a pen scribbling out a phone number on a sheet of paper held against the wall.

"Just a concerned citizen.  Call me if you need anything."

 

~<{0}>~

 

Finnick's foopaws dragged trails in the mulch under the swing he sat on.  Vaguely, he tried to spell the word  _Fin_.  It was late afternoon, and he had just gotten home from Ronny's house.  Several times, he tried to remember how he had ended up in Mr. and Mrs. Markin's bed, but the whole night was a blank.  He thought he had slept soundly, until early that morning when Emily decided to lean over him and slap him across the face with a paw damp from her own saliva.  

Something was wrong, and he knew it.  His mom had picked him and Nick up alone, saying that daddy had to go to work that morning, even though Finnick knew he usually had Saturdays off.  Mr. Markin had also departed for work in a hurry, mentioning something to Katy about a plane crash and an active shooter on base while he shoveled down his breakfast.

Both he and Nick heard more sirens than usual the whole day.  Police cruisers raced back and forth, some of them unmarked, as they drove through Savannah Central to Finnick's least favorite place in the world.

The checkup was grueling.  Finnick hated being poked and prodded by a stranger's fingers, and having a metal object stuck in his ears and nostrils.  He did not care if the doctor was a friendly, pretty doe who talked soothingly to him.  This just plain sucked.  

When it came time for a booster shot, Finnick did not flinch.  To Erica and the doctor's surprise, he watched the needle enter the flesh of his shoulder with a strange fascination as if he were receiving a tattoo.  The truth was, it simply did not hurt.  Finnick could feel a tiny hint of a sting, but nothing more.  The whole ride home, however, he scratched at the spot feverishly whenever his mom was not looking.

From his vantage point in the seat of the grocery cart that his mom pushed, Finnick could hear conversation after conversation referring to something awful that happened on the base.  While they waited in the checkout lane, few canines Finnick had seen swimming laps in the pool stood in the nearby beer aisle, with looks of grave, yet excited seriousness etched into their faces.

"The pilot ejected.  It was Captain Slater."  a wolf said win a slightly raspy voice,  "He landed in a neighborhood off base."

"Damn..."  A tattooed coyote said, scratching his chin, "was he okay?"

"Oh, he was fine."  A red fox replied, "said he took fire from the  _ground._ Someone on the ground was zipping him with five five six."

 

~<{0}>~

 

A low rumbling sound filled the eastern sky.  Finnick looked up from where he sat drawing in the mulch with his footpaws, and saw four tiny black helicopters with bulbous cockpits roar low overhead.  Straddled on external seats four to a helicopter, were mammals dressed all in black, including their body armor and helmets with night optics mounted.  Their faces were obscured by balaclavas, and they each carried a rifle with a suppressor.  One of the mammals waved at Finnick as he passed over.  Finnick timidly waved back.

As quickly as they appeared, they were gone.  The park was quiet again, apart from the distant chatter of parents with kids.  Mueller hill rose up a few meters away from the playground, which was situated in the middle of a short stretch of grassy field at the foot of it.  Erica sat talking to Katy on a bench nearby, while Nick and Ronny chased each other around the mulched-in structure.

The wind picked up somewhat, and Finnick felt the warm breeze ruffle his blond headfur, teasing the strands playfully.  Occasionally, he would find himself contemplating his own identity.  Normandy drive was such a distant memory, it might as well have never happened, but Finnick still wondered about it.  There was the faintest inkling of a memory, more of a subconscious vision plaguing him.  He remembered kind, golden brown eyes, ones identical to his own, and surrounded by the tan furred face of a female fennec.  He had no image of where or when, or any other detail.  Just the golden brown eyes of the mammal who Finnick figured could only be his mother.

Nick flopped down onto a swing next to Finnick, snapping him out of his reverie as the chains rattled.  Ronny followed suit, laughing and cinching up his pants after Nick had attempted to pull them down as a part of their tag game.

"C'mon, Fin, you're being too quiet!  Come have play with us!"  Nick exclaimed as he kicked off and leaned his head back so he was looking at the world upside down.  Regaining his sense of fun, Finnick began swinging back and forth to build up momentum, intent on jumping off.  Before he could act on it, his mother's voice called out to them.

"Time to head home!"  she called, gesturing them to run towards her and Katy.  

Nick and Ronny ran out ahead, hopping the plastic barrier and taking off towards Erica and Katy, who stood waiting.  Finnick turned to follow, and had only taken two steps when he collided hard with a tan-furred figure, and stumbled backwards onto the ground.  The mammal he had run into fell on top of him with a soft grunt, and when he opened his eyes, his heart stood still.  Straddling Finnick with her face inches from his, was the the most startling, strange, and beautiful thing he had ever seen.  A female fennec kit, about his age stared back, in equal shock.   She let out an embarrassed giggle as she sat up, still straddling him.  The longer Finnick looked at her, the more mesmerized he became.  Everything about her captivated him, from the smooth golden headfur that draped down around her head, to the sequined, form-fitting jeans she wore.  What was most striking, however, was the innocent, yet tenacious beauty she radiated, two dazzling, vibrantly orange eyes.  Yet there was an imperfection.  With a jolt of horror, Finnick realized her nose was bleeding.

He hastily sat up, thinking he had seriously injured her.  She sniffed, and noticed the droplets of blood gathering in the mulch just to the side of where Finnick's head had been.  With one paw, she felt around her muzzle and discovered the blood that had flowed down from her nostrils to her upper lip.  Finnick braced himself, certain she would yell at him.

To his surprise, she let out an amused laugh, and wiped her paw off in the mulch as she swung her leg off Finnick to let him up.  Confused relief flowed through Finnick.  Was she okay?  She did not seem angry, but was she?  The thought of his mother reprimanding him for hitting a girl struck Finnick and fear stabbed him in the gut.  Desperately, he rooted through his pocket for the napkin he had stuffed down there earlier, and held it out to her hopefully.  He was still not sure if she wanted his help or not.

"That's sooo weird..."  she giggled, "it's bleeding but it doesn't hurt."

She flashed a demure smile that made Finnick's stomach do a backflip, and shifted closer to accept the napkin.  He extended a paw to her shoulder, and gently rested it there, while the other held the napkin to her nose, half-expecting her to rebuke him at any second.  She seemed to notice Finnick's mental distress, and the way he was watching her with so much timid compassion.

"I'm sorry, I-"  Finnick stammered, but was unable to finish his sentence.  He had suddenly forgotten how to talk at all.  Erica's voice echoed over to Finnick a second time, beckoning him over, and numb fear coursed through him.  He could see the fennec kit's mother shaking Erica and Katy's paw.  She had kind features and Finnick could hear a distinct southern accent in her voice as she conversed with his own mother and Katy.  Finnick was sure she would blame him when she saw her daughter's bleeding nose.

Feeling as though he were walking towards the gallows, Finnick gently helped her up and walked her across the playground and towards their parents.  Resolving not to cry if they shouted at him, Finnick prepared himself for the worst. Erica's eyes widened when she noticed the dried blood on her muzzle, as well as the reddened napkin in Finnick's paw.  Finnick cringed, a lump building in his throat, certain he was in trouble.

 "Daniel..."  Erica began, kneeling down, "what happened?"  Her mother took her daughter by the paw, and examined the bloody muzzle.  To Finnick's surprise she did not show any animosity towards him, and only regarded him with a look of concerned curiosity.  Before Finnick could say anything, the fennec kit spoke up.  This was a relief, given the fact that Finnick still could not find his voice.

"We ran into each other."  She said brightly, allowing her mother to dab the blood off her lip, "It was an accident, and he helped me."

"You did?"  the mother said kindly, "you're so sweet!"  Her eyes were more of a softer orange than her daughter's, and Finnick noticed that she wore an old college sweater that he had seen on his own mother.

"It's okay, Daniel,"  Erica chuckled, seeing Finnick's nervousness and ruffling his head, "no one's mad at you.  This is Denise.  They just moved in next to us.  Her husband works with daddy."

"Well nice to meet you Daniel!"  Denise said, "this is Madeline".  

Finnick nodded in reply, still unsure if he was in trouble or not.  Madeline giggled with embarrassment through a fresh tissue, smiling at Finnick in a way that made him go weak in the knees.

"Hi."  she said quickly, then giggled again as  her tail swished back and forth languidly.

 

~<{0}>~

 

After saying goodbye to Ronny and Katy, Finnick spent the ride home in numb silence.  He could not get Madeline out of his mind, and was hardly listening to Nick's conversation with their mom about how helicopters worked.  Instead, he gazed out the window, watching the trees and houses whip by in the late afternoon sunlight.  The sun seemed to flicker rapidly as trees and other obstacles concealed it, and Finnick lazily watched it, fatigued enough to take a nap.

The warm golden sunlight that filtered in through the window did the trick, and within seconds, Finnick was dozing lightly in his car seat.  He awoke several minutes later when the car bounced into the driveway.  As Nick helped him unbuckle his seat belt, Finnick caught sight of a moving truck a few houses away.  There was an adult male fennec standing outside, talking to the movers.  It was only the second time in his memory that Finnick had seen an a grown male of his own kind.

Julian arrived home late in the evening, while Finnick was standing on a footstool in the bathroom, having a casual water fight with Nick while they brushed their teeth.  They quickly ceased flicking water at each other long enough to greet him.  Their father look exhausted, and yet strangely excited like the mammals in the grocery store.  Finnick wondered if there was some particular reason mammals like his father seemed to become invigorated by bad things happening.  When Julian had talked about going to war, he talked about it like they were the best days of his life.  When he talked about being stuck under an overturned armored vehicle in a firefight, he would get a dreamy, profound look in his eyes like it was the most fun he had ever had.  When Julian told the story of Stan Devoss breaking his ankle while sliding down a rocky slope and having to carry him, both he and Stan seemed to act it had been a truly wonderful time.  

For whatever reason, Finnick found himself strangely drawn to that mentality.  He thought about his father's job, and for the first time, seriously thought about what he wanted to do when he grew up.

Sleep did not come as easy that night as it did only a few hours ago.  Finnick lay awake for hours, thinking about Madeline, and how she was only a couple hundred feet away at this moment, in her own bedroom.  He wondered if she was thinking about him too, or if she had just forgotten him for being a jerk who knocked her down at the playground.  There was a burning sensation in his head and gut, and the longer he dwelled on Madeline, the more uncomfortable he became.  Nick's relaxed breaths lulled Finnick to sleep, and one last fuzzy thought occurred to him.  The past couple of days had seemed strangely complicated, but there was one thing Finnick knew for certain.  He was in love, and to Finnick, that was the strangest thing of all.

 

 


	5. Angels Have Wings

April 30th, 1995

 

April was usually a turbulent month.  For the last few weeks, the weather would rotate back and forth from muggy spring days with cloudless skies, to rainstorms rushing in out of nowhere, only to dissipate seemingly moments later.  In just a few more, the mugginess of spring would give way to the intense heat of a long Zootopian summer.

Rivers of rainwater ran down the gutters of Savannah Central Elementary School, emitting loud rushing sounds as they entered the drains in waterfalls.  Everything smelled like hot, damp pavement being rewarmed by the sun as Erica walked towards the front of the front of the school, her footpaws slapping wetly as she waded through dozens of families, all greeting their kids or waiting for them to appear.  Her navy blue hoodie bore dark water droplets like spots, which were the product of a soaked tree limb overhead that the wind had jostled just a little too much.  Alongside her walked Katy, who held Emily on her hip.  The toddler chewed on a couple of her fingers while she stared around at her environment curiously.

Erica ran her fingers through her headfur, stirring up a light shower of water of the top of her head as she caught sight of Ronny, Nick, and Finnick waiting by the front steps.

"Mom!"  Finnick called out, running toward her outstretched arms.  With a soft grunt, he collided with her chest, his schoolbag bouncing on his back.

"Hey, buddy,"  Erica said, allowing him to step back and wipe his head clean of the rainwater she had transferred to him, "how was school?"  Finnick laughed brightly and shook his head out like a dog.  Turning to Katy, he practically jumped into her free arm.

"I missed you too, Danny."  Katy chuckled, while Finnick gripped the velvety fabric of her plaid jacket tightly.

Suddenly, Finnick felt the fingers of a small paw touch his temple lightly, then wrap around his head.  Startled, he glanced up to left to see Emily blush furiously, giggling and averting her eyes in embarrassment.

Nick and Ronny arrived and they each exchanged hugs with Erica and Katy.  While still predominantly himself, Nick's demeanor had taken a severe downturn over the past few days.  Nothing seemed to excite him, and he just went through the motions, scarcely doing enough to get through it.  Erica hugged him a little extra longer, carefully watching a small group of children on the other side of the lawn out of the corner of her eye.  A beaver in a green outfit cast a smirk in their direction, then joined his friends around an adult in the same green attire.  

 Thin mist rose off the asphalt as Erica walked with her sons to her car, giving the impression that the whole parking lot was engulfed in a low ground fog.  She quickly unlocked the door, then right as Finnick and Nick were shedding their backpacks, a young, feminine voice called out to them.

Finnick turned around on the spot, and his stomach did a backflip when he saw Madeline passing by, accompanied by her mother.  When they stopped to talk, Erica and Denise embraced like old friends.  When Denise spoke, she made frequent use of the words "darling"  and "honey", which complemented her bold southern accent.  All the while, Madeline continued to steal quick glances at Finnick, causing him to suddenly become starkly aware of his own breathing pattern.  Nick perched on the edge of the backseat of the car, quietly waiting with the door open.

When Finnick overheard that Madeline and her family would be coming over for dinner that evening, a sudden mixture of anticipation and panic filled him.  For the last several weeks, she had seemingly teased him with friendly smiles from across the classroom, or by accidentally crossing paths.  Every time, it would leave him feeling hollow, as if he hadn't eaten in days.

Denise and Madeline bid their farewell to Finnick, Nick, and Erica, but not before Madeline had taken notice of Finnick's nervousness.

"Hey,"  she said just loud enough for Finnick to hear, and quiet enough to keep from interrupting her mother, "relax, silly!"

A chill went up Finnick's spine when he looked into her dazzling orange irises, but it strangely seemed to do the trick.  All the uneasiness vanished, and he suddenly found himself looking beneath Madeline's tenacious beauty, and into the eyes of someone with an innately caring personality.  Once again, Finnick was quiet the whole ride home.  He rested his head against the fabric of his car seat, watching the sunny, rain-soaked world fly by while Nick and his mother talked animatedly about how tornadoes worked.  

As they pulled into their neighborhood, they passed by a snowy leopard on the sidewalk, who was opening his mailbox.  He and Erica exchanged a friendly wave, as did Nick, but Finnick felt a twinge of familiarity.  For a moment, he thought he saw a pair of kind, golden-brown eyes looking back at him.  The snowy leopard turned back towards his house, where a lioness was waiting in the doorway.  Finnick watched them through the back window of the car as their lips met, and walked back indoors with their paws intertwined.  

 

-~x0x~- 

 

Despite Madeline's reassurances, Finnick's fur stood on end when he heard the doorbell ring.  He got down from the stepstool in front of the bathroom sink, and listened as the door was opened, and heard Denise's familiar accent.  There was another voice, this one belonging to a male, whom he could hear his father referring to as "Simon".

Nick appeared, wearing a plain yellow t-shirt and a pair of jeans.  He smiled and ruffled his brother's headfur fondly as he passed, but did not speak.  Finnick watched him longingly, still taken aback by the downcast mood Nick had exhibited recently.  He was seized by an urge to hug him, hoping that just the simple gesture could coax some words out of his brother.  

Nick's eyes widened slightly when Finnick's arms wrapped around his torso, and he stood in shocked silence for a split second.  Slowly, he lowered his arms and returned the hug, his paws coming to rest around Finnick's shoulders.  They remained there in that position for several seconds, until they heard their father beckoning them into the dining room.  As they walked downstairs, Nick realized that Finnick did not even know what had happened.  He had simply noticed his brother's distress, and wanted to soothe it.

In the living room, Julian was talking with an unusually tall fennec, who had an identical build, as well of a distinct look of quiet ferocity.  Finnick caught a glimpse of their conversation as he and Nick made their way to the table, and his ears remained swiveled back towards them.

"How's Captain Slater?"

"Better now that he's out of the hospital.  They think they know who shot at him, too."

"Really?"

"You won't believe it when you hear it.  Neither did I."

Finnick was just starting to search for Madeline when he came face to face with her by the kitchen counter.  After nearly colliding like they had at the playground, Finnick took a step back, blushing furiously.  She was wearing a sky-blue, knee-length dress that contrasted directly with her eyes.  

Madeline regarded him humorously when she saw his eyes instinctively linger on her nose.  "It's not bleeding anymore, silly!"  she laughed, taking him by the paw.  

Finnick followed her out the back door to their seats, feeling strangely wobbly on his footpaws.  

Nearby, Nick's mood seemed to lift when Ronny arrived, and they quickly departed for his room, leaving Finnick outside on the deck with Madeline, where they gripped the vertical, wooden beams of the deck rail, gazing out at the evening.

"Look at that!"  she said, pointing up at a single point of light in the sky.  In the gathering twilight, it seemed powerfully bright, and did not twinkle like a normal star.  Next to it, was a much dimmer speck.  It moved slowly across the darker space above the sunset, a single, mobile dot travelling across the visible universe.  Finnick watched it go, captivated.

"Dad said it's called a satellite,"  Madeline said, "they're machines that get launched up there in rockets.  They stay up there because everything floats way up high."

While Finnick was trying to wrap his head around the concept of a machine so far up in the sky that it could float in mid-air, Madeline pointed at the larger point of light.

"That's called Venus."  she said, drawing Finnick's gaze forward, "it's not a star cuz it doesn't twinkle.  It's a planet, and it's really  _hot_ there." 

Dumbfounded, Finnick hardly understood what Madeline was explaining.  He was just mesmerized by her voice.  Noticing his confusion, she regarded him curiously.

"You don't talk much do you?"  She observed with a friendly smile, "That's okay.  I like that you're quiet.  Everyone's just _so_  loud  _all_ the time."

 "Are you an angel?"  Finnick asked suddenly, the words spilling out of their own accord.  As soon as they left his lips, his stomach twisted into an embarrassed knot, and he cringed inwardly when Madeline's face broke into a flattered smile, and she began giggling uncontrollably.  

"No, silly!"  she replied sweetly, swishing her dress habitually as she gripped the railing, "I'm just Madeline.  Angels have wings!"

Finnick's cheeks went red, but was relieved that she had found humor in it, like she seemed to with everything.  Before he could think of anything else to say, Erica appeared at the door, beckoning them inside.

"Let me see your thumb, sweetie."  She said, crouching down to Finnick's height.  Taking his left paw in both of hers, she examined a jagged, partially healed cut that ran from the tip to the base on the back of his paw.  It was still red and discolored, but had sealed up sufficiently enough that it would not likely open up again.  

Finnick cringed inwardly, his mind's eye recalling the splintered edge of a handrail tearing into his thumb.  It had not required stitches, which Finnick knew only from sight on one of his classmates that they would be excruciatingly painful.  Satisfied, Erica released him to the kitchen to wash his paws.  

As he made his way through the legs of taller mammals to the sink, Finnick suppressed feelings of inadequacy.  It had only been within the past few months that he had really become fully aware of the difference between him and his family.  Even compared to Nick, who had grown significantly in the past couple of years, Finnick felt hopelessly small.  Other red fox kits, including his cousins, seemed to tower over him.  While they were all hitting growth spurts, he was left in the dust, a lone, tan-furred midget among giants. 

This sometimes kept Finnick wake all night, wondering who he really was, and why he had to be so short, and with such big ears that seemed to overbalance him at random moments.  Now, some of those insecurities were alleviated.  The arrival of other fennecs into his life had helped to reassure him that he was not a complete outsider.

Still, the stepstool in front of the sink reminded Finnick that he was still somehow separated from his family.  Not by species, necessarily, but by the ever-unsettling question of who he really was, and where he had come from.

An alluring, flowery scent interrupted Finnick's train of thought, and he was startled to see Madeline join him at the sink.  As she stuck her paws under the stream of tap water, Finnick froze for a moment.  Thinking quickly, he tried to pick up the small paw soap bottle to pass it to her, but the slippery container shot right out of his grasp, and into the sink with an audible thud.

Cold embarrassment flooded Finnick's mind, and he looked over his shoulder.  Relieved that none of the adults had noticed, Finnick quickly grabbed the bottle by it's dispenser cap, and set it upright on the counter between him and Madeline.  Madeline's face was a picture of amusement, as if she was finding his clumsy efforts entertaining.

"Thank you," she said with a smirk, once Finnick had successfully balanced the soap bottle on the counter without knocking it over.  His cheeks burning, Finnick was torn between staying here at the sink until she was also done, or just going with his gut and running as far away as possible.  Before he could make a decision, Nick and Ronny appeared, taking both his and Madeline's place.

Finnick's cheeks burned when he saw his brother's amused expression, who despite his downcast mood, had not been able to ignore Finnick's clumsy efforts to be polite.  Not wanting to stay and be made fun of, he quickly scooted away to the back porch.  

 Dinner was a relaxed affair, with everyone enjoying the warm spring evening out on thae back porch in deck chairs and eating off of paper plates.  Ronny, Nick, Finnick, and Madeline sat together at a small, plastic table, but Julian was not the type to exclude them just so he could have adult conversations with other adults.  He sat cross legged next to Finnick, comically positioning himself to eat at a child's height, but close enough to Erica and the others in order to talk with them also.  Several times, Finnick's leg brushed Madeline's, sending a bolt of electricity shooting through him.  

Thirty minutes later, he and Madeline were sprawled on the living room floor, surrounded by crayons.  While Madeline immaculately created lifelike images, Finnick awkwardly traced his crayon along, not having a clue how to make anything of it.  

"Here,"  Madeline said, taking hold of his wrist, "relax your arm."

With her assistance, the clumsy strokes turned to smooth lines.  Finnick watched interestedly as she returned to her own drawing, which was slowly beginning to resemble a tree.

Finnick's paw ran along the sheet of paper, tracing the crayon in a downward motion.  When Madeline paused what she was doing to watch, he continued drawing, tracing the crayon back upwards to a tangle of green lines, then paused and looked down at the tree he had just produced, examining it as if he was not sure what he had just done.  

Madeline pointed at the space below it, advising Finnick to draw grass beneath the tree.  He obliged, and slowly began flicking line after line along the width of the sheet.

After several minutes of experimentation, Julian passed, and stooped to see what Finnick was drawing.

"Whatcha drawing, bud?"  he asked, pointing at what vaguely appeared to be a fennec fox with large, blue wings.

"An angel." Finnick replied, drawing bright orange eyes on the fennec.

After Julian had gone back to the kitchen to continue cleaning, Finnick continued to steal glances at Madeline.  Every time he saw her sand-colored fur glowing in the dim ceiling fan light, something stirred in the pit of his stomach.  His mind would go blank for a second until her tenaciously beautiful features returned the glance curiously, causing Finnick to withdraw his gaze in a hurry, hoping she hadn't caught him looking.

 

-~x0x~-  

 

An hour later, Scott and Katy went home, insisting on getting Emily to bed early.  Ronny was allowed to stay the night, and after saying goodnight to his parents, he, Finnick, Madeline, and Nick returned to the back yard to chase each other in circles until it got to dark to see.  All the while, Finnick kept his ears turned towards his father and Simon, picking up bits and pieces of their discussion, his mind lingering on the multiple uses the word "cult".

Eventually, Simon took Madeline home, while Denise stayed behind for a little while longer to talk with Erica.

Finnick felt as if he were nearing the end of a long distance race.  He had been so terrified of saying or doing something embarrassing, and once Madeline had arrived, all the numb worry had disappeared.  Now, he felt like he was on the verge of a rare sense of accomplishment as he stood in the foyer with her, waiting for their parents' to finish talking.

"Mom doesn't like it,"  Madeline said as she tried to tug her shoes on the wrong footpaws, "but dad likes to go to sleep early.  He's a marine like your dad!"

Finnick sat on the floor with her, and held out her left shoe for her to take.  "What do angels look like?" he asked, recalling their earlier conversation.  Madeline smiled and shrugged.

"I don't know, silly,"  she replied with a laugh, "I'm just Madeline."

With a soft sigh, she finally secured the shoe on her footpaw, then tightened the velcro straps.   Standing up, she saw Finnick regarding her as if he thought he would never see her again.  Finnick opened his mouth to speak, but Madeline beat him to it.

"I'm just a few houses away, Danny!"  she giggled, "I'm not going away forever!"

Julian and Simon appeared in the foyer, and the adult fennec ruffled his daughter's headfur fondly.

"C'mon, Maddie,"  he said, shaking Julian's paw, "let's get you to bed."

Finnick was about to turn away, thinking this was his cue to head back to the living room, when instead of following her father out the door, Madeline stepped forward and snatched Finnick  up in a brief hug.  He had exactly one second's worth of paralyzed shock and numb disbelief pouring through his entire body before Madeline released him.

The door closed, and Finnick was left standing on the rug in the foyer, frozen into confused silence.  Next to him stood the father who had adopted him, while his mind lingered on the adopted daughter of his father's childhood friend.

 

 -~x0x~- 

 

The cicadas were chirping loudly around Erica and Denise as they sat alone in folding chairs on the back deck, facing the small stretch of woods that separated their yard from the interstate.  Cars rushed by, their headlights blinking rapidly in the gaps between the trees.  

The screen door opened with a hissing noise, and Julian poked his head out into the twilight.  "I'm getting the kiddos to bed," he informed Erica, "you take it easy tonight, love."

"Aw,"  Erica replied, leaning her head back against her chair and blushing, "you're sweet.  I'll be up in a little bit to say goodnight.  Just don't put them in the shower all at once.  They'll take forever and make a mess."

Julian flashed a roguish smirk, "I love you, too."

"Hey,"  Erica called after him as he was about to head back indoors, "I know you're new to this, but if you do a good job..."  

She flashed him an alluring look, and Julian read the "do-me" in her eyes.  Without further hesitation he disappeared indoors.  

Once the screen door closed, a warm breeze swept across the deck, causing Erica to sigh deeply.

"What's on your mind, honey?"  Denise asked, noticing her old friend's silence.

Erica arched her back, raising her elbows horizontally in one, long, satisfying stretch accompanied by a yawn.  When she had regained her relaxed posture, leaning back on the deck chair, she shrugged.

"Just thinking,"  she replied, "it's a strange feeling.  Good, but strange."

Denise's soft orange eyes regarded Erica patiently, waiting for her to elaborate.  Erica gazed up at the starry night sky, searching for the right words.

"Right now, where I am in my life, there's nothing I would change." she said plainly,  "I'm married to a wonderful, loyal male, I have two beautiful kids, a successful career, I'm healthy and in shape, and I have good friends living close by.  It just feels strange to acknowledge that, when ten years ago, I wasn't sure if I was going to even graduate high school."

She paused and looked back into her friend's eyes, apology written in her own.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Denise."  she said, "it just doesn't seem fair, that I've found all this, while you were still struggling to raise your daughter by yourself.  I know you said Maddie's been desperate for a friend."

"Darling,"  Denise began soothingly, "don't feel bad.  I have no right to hold any envy for you.  It just took me a little longer to find my footpaws, that's all."

"You still had to go through your whole pregnancy alone,"  Erica protested, still unable to forgive herself so easily, "and I was too busy with Julian to help, when I should have."

A quick shake of the fennec mother's head silenced her.  Denise's eyes betrayed only forgiveness.  

"I'm okay now, sweetheart," she said softly, "and so is Maddie.  We've both come a long way from Abilene, and we've both been reckless.  When I first found out Justin got me pregnant just to abandon me, I thought it was the end of the world.  Now, Maddie _is_ my world.  So is Simon, and so are you.  I'm proud of you, and I couldn't be happier."

"And," she added sweetly with a somewhat proud smile, "I can rest easy knowing that when Simon says he loves me, he means it."

Their conversation was temporarily drowned out by the humming, throbbing din of four tiny, black, helicopters roaring overhead across the interstate and into the sunset.  In front of the yellow-orange light between the trees, their bulbous cockpits could clearly be seen, as well as their passengers.  Their boots dangled over the landscape, straddling the external seats with their rifles resting at the low ready.  This gave all four helicopters the resemblance of four bizarre, multi-legged flying creatures, silhouetted against the sunset.

As Erica watched them go, she caught Denise regarding her strangely.  In the porch light, the fennec mother looked startlingly beautiful, with her supple lips parted slightly, and her eyes bearing such a scorching, seductive allure.  Erica felt a familiar wave of desire rise in her heart.

"The things we did to each other..." she half-whispered, while Denise shifted closer in her chair.

Denise's eyelashes fluttered once, and she smiled warmly.  "I remember like it was yesterday, honey."

She placed her paw on Erica's thigh, and slowly traced it up towards her hip.  When she strayed to the inner thigh, Erica shivered at the familiar touch, involuntarily letting out a quiet, pleasurable gasp as Denise teased the fur under the fabric of her jean shorts.  All the while, Denise held her look of calm desire.  When Erica gasped again, she smiled with satisfaction.

Deep down, part of Erica wanted to, and wished they still could.  The primal, adventurous desire that Erica had held her entire life stirred, burning in her core.  Deciding to put a stop to it before she lost all self-control, Erica cleared her throat softly, flashing a condescending smile.  Denise returned the expression, and withdrew her fingers.  

"Sorry, darling,"  she crooned, still smiling, "old habits die hard."

 

 -~x0x~- 

 

Finnick shivered as he desperately tried to tug on a pair of pajama pants, hopping up and down in place, and kicking his legs out as he cinched the fabric up his waist.  The only things he felt were smaller than him lately, were the clothes he had worn for the past couple of years.  Almost all of Nick's old hand-me downs had become increasingly snug, prompting Nick to dig through his dresser and look for garments he no longer wore.

Once he had successfully donned the pajamas, he slipped on a pair of oversized, red-and-black striped socks.   Beside him, Nick brushed his teeth while he discussed Caleb's most recent antics with Ronny, who was on the other side of the shower curtain.

"He said he found out what's under a girl's skirt!" Ronny said, speaking over the sharp splashes of water and shampoo hitting the shower floor, "he said some high schoolers told him!"

"What is it?"  Nick answered, his voice muffled by a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Caleb said your dad was right,"  Ronny replied, "it actually is the source of their girl power, and it's called a v-"

"Three minutes are up!"  came Julian's voice from the other side of the bathroom door, "Rinse off, then turn off the water!"

The showerhead continued to continued to spray water for several more seconds, before Ronny finally shut it off with a quiet thud, leaving only the humming sound of the fan.  While Ronny dried off, Finnick was trying repeatedly to unscrew the toothpaste cap, growing more frustrated by the second.  Soon, he held it out to Nick, looking both hopeful and exasperated.  Nick deftly twisted the cap, and handed the toothpaste back to his brother.  

Finnick accepted it, and clumsily squeezed the contents onto his toothbrush, but he was nonetheless disheartened by Nick's quietness.  Usually, there was some sort of good-natured banter back and forth between them at this time in the evening, even some friendly teasing and pranking.  Now, he was just talking calmly, without his usual energy.  Occasionally, he would catch him clawing at his muzzle, as if he were grasping at some invisible object on it.

By comparison to the warm, humid bathroom, the rest of the house seemed downright frigid.  Finnick ran quickly across the carpet, and immediately climbed into bed to escape the cold air.  Nick and Ronny were still discussing Caleb's behavior when Julian appeared again for his close to-nightly ritual of telling Nick and Finnick a story from work.  He overheard the last few sentences of Nick and Ronny's conversation, and cast a half-suspicious, half-amused glance at the two of them. 

Julian always glossed over the more graphic details of his stories, and instead looked for the plentiful humor in them.  Reliving these stories gave Julian some closure of his own, and helped make light some of the hardest and darkest times of his life.  He looked forward to these moments with his kids as much as they looked forward to hearing more about their father's experiences.  

Clad in just pajama bottoms, Finnick bounced lightly on the mattress as Julian lay down between him, Nick, and Ronny, facing the ceiling.  A light breeze blew over Finnick from the ceiling fan, ruffling it as he tucked himself under Julian's right arm.  Nick and Ronny sat up with their backs propped against their pillows, still too awake to lie down like Finnick.  

Once he too was settled in, Julian took a deep breath and relaxed, focusing his gaze on the dim, gold-hued, patterned light overhead.  Searching his mind for a memorable experience he had not yet told, Julian ventured a guess, hoping Nick, FInnick, or Ronny would remember better than him.

"Have I told you about the time Uncle Stan and I got lost in Australia?"

Nick and Ronny nodded in unison, so Julian went to his next idea.  "What about Camp Rhino?"  he asked.

"You haven't told us that!"  Nick said, settling the matter.  Without further ado, Julian took another trip down memory lane.

As Finnick listened, he rested his head snugly against his father's warm, strong figure.  The arm that he lay under held him tightly, but just tight enough that he felt safe and secure, like nothing could go wrong as long as he was around.  Deep down, Finnick's mind pondered that strange, powerful aura that his father gave off, and wondered how some grown-ups came to possess it.

With his fingers splayed in the fur of Julian's chest, Finnick looked up at him as he spoke, and saw that same, strange look in his eyes.  Wild, adventurous, and full of memories, they held within them the soul of a tough, uncompromising mammal who had already lived a full lifetime despite being so relatively young.  Yet, there was something deeper.  It could have been a trick of the mind, but somehow, FInnick sensed an ever-so-subtle strain to his father's voice, as if he were hiding some kind of past regret wherever he went.  The more Finnick listened, the more he heard it.  Despite telling a lighthearted story, there was a continuous hint of hidden, deeply rooted anger, burning like magma resting deep below the earth's surface.  

Right before he dozed off, Finnick wondered if even the strongest grown-ups felt pain, or ever cried.

 

-~x0x~- 

 

Erica crept across the carpet towards Julian's sleeping form.  She was only a few feet from him when her footpaw impacted a loose floorboard underneath, emitting an audible creaking sound.  Julian's eyes opened halfway, and he smirked at Erica, who was frozen mid-step alongside the bed.  Silently, he raised his paw in invitation to her.  Erica needed no further bidding.  She climbed in, and avoiding stepping on Finnick's limp form, settled down on the opposite side of her husband, between him and Nick.

"I owe you."  Erica whispered.

Julian smirked, "it can wait till tomorrow night, if you're okay waiting that long."

"Mm,"  Erica replied, nibbling his neck, "if you insist."

The distant thunder of the four helicopters interrupted them, and for several seconds, Erica and Julian listened as they passed overhead.  As the thunderous  _bom-bom-bom_  of the four sets of rotor blades filled the world outside, and rattled Nick's bedroom window slightly, a familiar excitement stirred deep down.  The fur on the back of his neck stood on end, and a prickling sensation crept down his spine.  So many years of adrenaline and hard living had built up within Julian's soul, and the life he had led turned him into a creature of two worlds.  One was the stressful, violent, and strangely addicting career he had immersed himself in, and the other was the family he was raising; part of his heart walking around outside his body, keeping him sane in the form of his wife and children.  

Sensing Julian's heartbeat increase, Erica squeezed him tighter.  For years now, she had noticed a subtle uneasiness about her husband's psyche.  When she had first met him, his wild, rambunctious personality had successfully hidden it, but as years went by, and they became parents, Erica would occasionally catch a glimpse of something strange stirring behind his emerald eyes.  Somewhere deep in Julian's core, a dark fire burned.

"You're an Angel, Erica." he said after a minute's silence.  From where Erica opened her eyes, her view of the room was obscured by the sleeping forms of Nick and Ronny.  Picking her head up so she could see him, Erica made sure his eyes were open and looking into her own before she replied.

"I love you, Julian."  she said quietly, baring her soul.  Several more seconds passed before a dull thud echoed in the distance, like a firework being set off miles away.  Thinking nothing of it, Julian closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him.  However, Erica kept her eyes on the window, gazing out at the city she called her home.  

 


	6. Always With You

Julian lay awake, nestled snugly among his family as he listened to the distant noises of Zootopia at night.  Sirens, rumbling traffic, cicadas, and the rustling wind drifted in through the open window, echoing across the sea of lights that stretched out over the landscape.  The city that Julian both loved and hated with all his heart, still tugged on his heartstrings once in a while.  So many terrible, lonely, and humbling moments, and the best and worst memories anyone can have, were all embedded in the rhythm of Julian's life in this place.  

He had spent so many years wanting nothing more than to leave, and finally see the big, wide world, to fight and learn in it.  Escaping the endless cycle of regret over the decisions he had made as a teenager, and breaking the pattern he had fallen into as a result of that guilt was all that mattered to him.  Julian had sought out redemption, and it had come to him in the form of a canine in dress blues, who had visited the community college Julian was going to.  Beyond desperate to change his reality, he dove into it with every intention to never return to Zootopia as long as he lived.

Yet here he was, but this time as an older, and wiser mammal.  This city did not seem so much like a prison now.  It had changed for the better in some ways, and even the familiar streets were bearable, but only because his family was here.  Julian had learned too much in life the hard way to take anything for granted.  Now, the hardest thing he would ever have to do is keep the truth from them.  They needed him, but someone else needed him just as much.

Erica shifted her paw across Julian's chest, keeping her fingers splayed in the fur.  Everyone had warned Julian that marriage was the worst thing he could do for his career, and for himself.   _You're going to hate that face in a few years anyway,_ they had said,  _just don't do it.  It never lasts._ As if she could hear Julian's thoughts, Erica lifted her muzzle so she could place her lips underneath his chin, resting her relaxed lips in a lingering, unconscious kiss.  Julian could not help but feel at least a small amount of righteous pride.  Here he was, proving the doubters wrong.

Glancing over Erica's body at Nick and Ronny, Julian felt a wave of gratitude ripple through him.  At barely nine years old, Nick was already the spitting image of his grandfather. A few weeks ago, he had suffered a tremendous blow to his spirit, which resulted in a ranger scout uniform being found in the garbage.  Nick had kept his anger and emotion to himself, until one night, it all came out.  Julian had listened patiently as his oldest son tearfully recalled being beaten and humiliated by his peers, who had deliberately lured him just for that purpose.  Refusing to let the perpetrators get away with it, Julian had ensured they were identified and punished, but the damage had been done.  For the last few weeks, Nick's spunky, bright energy had dimmed, and the light had seemed to vanish from his eyes.  Ronny had noticed more than anyone.

Julian had never seen a more close, or profound friendship his life than Nick's and Ronny's.  Not even in the Marine Corps, where mammals often knew each other better than their own wives, girlfriends, or siblings.  They trusted each other so much, they had put each their lives in each other's paws on some occasions, and knew it.  Moving back to the Zootopia area had come with its blessings, and Ronny and his family were the saving grace.  Scott had become the sort of friend Julian could picture still knowing into old age, and Katy had provided Erica with company through the best and worst of times.  The Markins were a rare gem of a family, one that as years went by, Julian never failed to appreciate.

Bleary mumbling emanated from Julian's right side, where Danny slept with his head on the space between his father's rotator cuff and chest.  Daniel slept better now than he had two years ago, but sometimes he still described vivid, and often disturbing nightmares.  He would describe a strange fox on top of a grassy hill at night, surrounded by little, flickering fires in the distance, and covered in blood from a gaping wound in his chest.  

 _He was dying._ Danny would say to his confused and worried parents,  _why did he have to die?_

Some nights he would sleepwalk.  These incidents were rare, but all the same, they left Erica in a state of worry.  Few things scared Julian anymore, but even he had to admit that Finnick's conversations with no one at all were unsettling.

A sudden buzzing sound caused Julian to jump slightly, and he opened his eyes again, knowing what it meant.  Normally he would have been loathe to drag himself out of bed in the middle of the night to answer, but it always excited him in the most inexplicable ways.  It meant he was going to get to do his job.

Carefully, he extracted himself from the arms of his wife and youngest son.  Pausing only to snatch the pager from the bedside table, Julian crept out of the bedroom and downstairs to the phone, where he dialed the complex number he had memorized.  It rang only once before a dopey, exhausted voice answered.

"Bruh...It's two in the fockin' marnin'" said someone on the other end of the line, sounding like he was stoned off his mind.  Julian could not suppress a smirk as he replied.

"Katmandu to you, too, dumbfuck."  he shot back, keeping his voice low, "do us all a favor and knife paw your dick off so you don't infect the rest of the world."  

There was a quick silence before the voice came again, this time gruff and professional, "Nice to hear from you, buddy." the voice said with an amused chuckle, "Good weekend?"

"Fantastic," Julian replied, "I take it we've got work to do."

"We're staging tomorrow at five P.M."  the voice replied, "Gold team's meeting us in stiller light.  Hydrate, and get your war face on."

"Stan?"  Julian inquired, his excitement and anticipation building, "what happened last night?"

"It's real, Jules,"  Devoss replied, sincerity radiating in his voice, "it's  _all_ real."

 

 

 

Finnick stood atop a tall, grassy hill, surrounded by a vast, hilly landscape dotted by sporadic forests and yet obscured by the eerie blanket of night.  When he stuck his paw out in front of him, he realized that the air seemed to be almost liquid, and when he brushed his paw to the side, the air seemed to fold aside as well, like a thick, infinite curtain.  There was a wet, stickiness to the grass, and at first, Finnick thought it was wet mud.  When he looked down, he discovered to his shock and confusion that it was bright red, and stained his bare footpaws as they squished through the blades of grass.  

Dragonflies fluttered all around, drinking the droplets of dew that were already beginning to form on the grass.  As Finnick waded through the thick, murky air, he saw a red fox several feet in front of him, heaving and gasping desperately.  The fox was on his knees, next to an older, more weathered version of himself.  They were both clad in ancient leather armor, and the elder of the two was heavily tattooed and badly scarred.

When the oldest fox spoke, it was in another language, and his voice was a terrifying, gutteral growl.  He leaned in close to the younger fox, and spat his final words at him.

 _Þú ert bara eins og mig, Ramiel_ the fox growled hoarsely, his eyes blood red and his teeth bared, _m_ _egi þú sefur aldrei._

The younger fox's eyes met his elder's, and he too, spoke like he were breathing his last.  

 _Ég er nú þegar í helvíti._  

With that, the older fox collapsed backwards and exhaled one final time.  The younger one remained kneeling, but there was a look of sheer terror and grief on his features that tugged on Finnick's heartstrings.  He looked like part of his soul had left him.

Suddenly, the dragonflies seemed to get thicker in number.  The violent beating of their wings sounded like one long, petrifying scratch of a violin bow, and a lone individual among them landed in the pool of blood at the young fox's knees, where it seemed to drink.

The dragonflies became a swarm, blocking out what little light there was.  They landed on every inch of Finnick's fur, in his headfur, and in his ears.  They went under his clothes, and with terrifying might, they began to lift Finnick off the ground.  Before he could cry out, Finnick awoke with his heart beating a violent tattoo against his chest.

 A strange, tickling sensation teased the strands of fur on his cheek.  When he opened his eyes, Nick's face was inches from his own, exhaling rythmically and still asleep.  Turning his face to avoid inhaling his brother's breath, Finnick blinked several times, trying to work out what time it might be without actually looking at the clock.  It was still dark, and both Ronny and his mother were asleep next to him.  His father was not there, though, and there was a warm, wrinkled print in the sheets where he had been laying.

Smacking his lips, Finnick breathed a deep sigh and gazed up at the smoke detector.  He was thirsty, and his mouth felt like all the moisture had been drained from it.  Feeling as though he were only half-awake, Finnick gently crawled across the mattress and hopped down onto the carpet.  He yawned and stretched deliriously, nearly overbalancing himself as his numb footpaws steadied themselves on the floor.  Once he had regained his equilibrium, Finnick walked out the open door, and into the hallway that led downstairs, where a faint lamplight glowed from.

Upon reaching the bottom step, Finnick heard his father's voice, speaking out loud to someone on the phone.  Julian turned when he heard his adopted son step on a squeaking floorboard underneath the carpet, the phone still held to his ear.  Finnick waited patiently, not wanting to interrupt.

"Understood,"  he said simply, and without emotion, "I'll be at the hangar with Devoss tomorrow evening.  No, they don't know...understood."  

Julian hung up the phone, and turned his attention back to Finnick, who had been sitting placidly on the bottom stair.  "What's up, bud?" he asked, walking forward to meet him in the middle of the living room.

"Tirstee" Finnick replied, pointing at his mouth.  Julian nodded understandingly, and took him by the paw to lead him to the kitchen.  After filling a plastic cup full of water and handing it to Finnick, he waited patiently for him to finish drinking.  Once Finnick had emptied the cup, he coughed lightly and held it out to his father to put away.

"Tank yew."  he said, glancing at the stove clock.  It was two in the morning.  Yawning, he leaned into his father's leg, and held gently onto it.  Julian's paws grasped him under the armpits, and lifted him up into his arms, where Finnick rested his head against the warmth father's chest as they settled down on the couch together.

For a minute or two, they sat there in warm, bonding silence, with Finnick straddling his father's lap, and his arms wrapped around his torso.  Eventually, as if on a whim, Finnick voiced what he had been wondering about since earlier that evening.

"Do grown ups cry?" he asked.  Julian opened his eyes, and his grip on Finnick tightened just enough to be a loving gesture.  

"Everyone cries."  Julian replied, "I've cried as a grown up.  Not an ounce of shame in saying it, bud."

"When?"  Finnick pressed, running his paw up and down his father's muscular shoulder.  There was a brief pause, and Finnick sensed something deeply personal about the question.

"I'll tell you when you're older, okay?"  Julian said, settling the matter, "for now, just know that I'll always be there for you."

"What are those hewicopters?"  Finnick asked, referring to the four, low-flying helicopters and their passengers.  There was another brief silence as Julian sighed deeply.

"They're my friends, and they're good guys,"  he replied, "they fight the bad guys, too."

Finnick yawned again, and Julian stood up, still holding him.Together, they made their way back upstairs to the bedroom, where Finnick was deposited on the mattress.  Julian clambered in next to him, snuggling between Finnick and Erica.  Deciding that now was a good time to mention his dream, Finnick wriggled onto this side so he could feel Julian's body heat from the front.

"I had a dream about the hill again."  he began quietly.  Julian turned his eyes to Finnick's, signalling that he was listening.  

"The fox was there again."  Finnick continued,  "He was dying, and covered in blood. Next to him was another fox.  He was older...and he was dead."

Finnick paused, immersing himself in his memory of the dream to recall the most detail possible,  "And a knife...there was a knife in the older fox's chest.  You could see a really long way from the top of the hill, and there were lots of trees and fields everywhere.  There was a fire in the middle of the hill, and lots of dead bodies around them.  Then the dragonflies came."

"Dragonflies?" Julian asked.  

Finnick nodded, "There was one at first.  It landed in the blood on the ground.  Then they all came from the dark, and then..."  he shuddered, remembering they way their little feet had felt on his fur and skin.  Inexplicably strong, and with a tremendous din of thousands of buzzing wings.  Nick opened his eyes right as Finnick described what had terrified him the most about his dream.

"Dragonflies...dragonflies were grabbing me."

"Drago-what?"  Nick said sleepily, not completely awake.  Julian chuckled and shushed him, guiding his head back down to the pillow.  Nick was asleep again in seconds.

Turning back to Finnick, Julian reassured him with a gentle pat on the shoulder, "It was just a dream, bud.  Just a dream."

Suddenly tired, Finnick nodded his agreement, and put the vision out of his mind.  As they drifted back to sleep again, Finnick ventured one more question.

"We'll always be together, right?"  he asked, imitating a cartoon he had seen of a lion cub perched on the top of his father's mane.  As if he were also thinking of the cartoon,  Julian looked out the window to the starry sky outside.  Finnick watched as his father's eyes took on a strange, ancient appearance.

"My father told me this when I was a kid, so I'm going to tell it to you," he said, rolling onto his side, "whenever you feel alone, remember that I'm always with you, and you can find me in there...deep down in your heart."

He pointed at Finnick's chest, directly over his heart.  Finnick blinked, trying to decipher what his father meant.  Before he could ask, Julian smiled and pulled him in close, as if to signal that it was time to get back to sleep.  Finnick relented, and let go of any other questions he had, and for now, just rested in the safety of this father's arms.  The last thing that went through his mind was the deep voice of a cartoon lion, looking up at the sky with his son on his back.

_"Look at the stars," Mufasa said, "the great kings of the past look down on us from those stars."_

_"Really?"  Simba asked excitedly._

_"Yes,"  Mufasa replied, so whenever you feel alone, just remember, those kings will always be there to guide you...and so will I."_

 

 

 

Storm clouds gathered on the horizon, spitting sheets of torrential rain in the distance, like a thin, black veil underneath layers of dark clouds.  The sunset was still bright as ever, emitting spectacular ribbons of orange and yellow light into the sky.  From his vantage point, Julian felt a wave of relief flow through him.  The storm was moving in the opposite direction, and it was a moonless night.  However, that did nothing to alleviate the constant, leaden weight in his stomach.  Whenever he thought of his family, he wondered how long he could hide the truth from them.  In reality, it would be harmless, but keeping up a lie was exhausting.  They deserved to know, but they could not unless the worst were to happen.

He stood with Stan in the doorway of a large hangar, overlooking the wooded expanse of Camp Riley.  Around them, rough, hardened mammals in civilian clothes stood waiting, also gazing out at the spectacular view.  Hard rock blared through speakers set in the corners of the hangar, and behind them, aviation maintainers in fatigues clambered up and down the frame of an F-19 fighter jet, which in the setting sun looked profoundly intimidating.  Up above, two large flags hung from the rafters.  One was the national flag of the Z.S.A., and the other was bright red, and bore the emblem of the service Julian, Stan, and the rest of their team no longer answered to.  They answered to one mammal only now, in a city three hundred miles south of here.

"Pretty isn't it?" a burly jaguar said to Julian as he folded his scarred arms across his barrel chest, "its like mother nature knows who's comin'."

Julian chuckled, casually smoothing out the wrinkles on his white linen shirt, "that's a silver lining."

"It's funny," the jaguar said wistfully, "how much does Uncle Sam spend on us?  So many schools, so much training, and they use us for this.  I don't care much for the  _why_ , it's just funny."

"Twelve years ago,"  Julian replied slowly, deciding not to comment on his teammate's last statement, "I was about to jump off a bridge because my life was a fucking mess.  I'm just glad to still be here, thanks to this guy."

He gestured a few mammals down to Stanley Devoss, who was chatting quietly with the mammals next to him.  The jaguar nodded understandingly, his stormy blue eyes alight with the thrill of simply learning anything and everything he could.  Exactly the way he had been trained to.

"What's it like?" Julian continued, probing the jaguar for everything he could, "hitting your stride here?"

"There's nothing like it,"  Chesser said, with the air of someone remembering a fond sexual experience, "when you touch the magic.  After that, there's nothing else."

 A faint whistle echoed across the tarmac in front of them.  Everyone started off across it, making their way to the open ramp of a military cargo plane.  As they reached the shade of the aircraft, Julian and Stan exchanged brief nods of greeting to the producer of the whistle, who patted Julian on the shoulder as he passed by.

For a moment, Julian opened his mouth as if to say something in farewell to him, but faltered.  The kind, golden-brown eyes understood without needing to speak.  With that, Julian walked with his team inside the massive aircraft, each and every one of them leaving behind a piece of their heart.


	7. The Lord's Prayer

June 11, 1995

 

Erica writhed and moaned underneath Julian as he draped himself over her.  He nipped and nibbled at her neck, while he ground his hips against her with a strangely savage and yet gentle pace.  A growl escaped his throat as she wrapped her legs around him, her tail whipping up and down and brushing up against his rump.  She arched her back, shuddering as Julian pushed himself deeper.

Dragonflies buzzed around their balcony, overlooking a calm ocean that was brightly lit up by a crescent moon.  The sound of gentle, rolling surf echoed up from down below.  Right as Julian was about to climax, a buzzing sound shook him to the core.

The pager sent chills through his spine.  Wiping the crust from his eyes, he stared at it as if he wanted nothing more than to take the karambit on the table next to him and stab the life out of the pager.  He felt strangely warm, was sweating lightly, and felt like a dead weight on the mattress, but forced himself up out of bed onto numb footpaws, while next to him, Stan did the same.  Julian had to hunch over momentarily to hide his body's reaction to his dream and quickly slipped his pants on to keep it from being obvious.

The donned the gear they had prepared yesterday afternoon.  Magazines, body armor, night vision, water, food, medical supplies, and even toilet paper in case they were stuck out for longer than expected.  Julian slipped his lightweight combat shirt on, his mind still lingering on Erica's bare body.  As if he were getting one last good look, he quickly pushed her to the back of his head so he could focus on his job, allowing his erection to finally subside right as he and Stan entered the briefing room.

The briefing was exactly that: brief.  Everyone already knew what was happening, and this was mostly to review and outline contingency plans and who went were to do what.  Insertion, hit, extraction.  Get in, do the job, get out.

 Then came a march out to the pair of massive, twin-rotor Chinooks, where aircrews were waiting.  Two other attack helicopters were escorting them for added safety.  The air was a balanced temperature, and Julian felt his drowsiness leave him.  While they waited for the green light to board, he and a few others cracked open energy drink cans to pass the time and help each other wake up.

Julian's heart beat out a steady metronomic pattern, just loud enough for its owner to hear over the deafening noise around him.  It was like a slow drumbeat, playing the funeral march of what would be its final moments pumping blood.  Yet Julian was unfazed as always.  He thought nothing of it, and instead closed his eyes momentarily, letting his mind unravel for a moment, and shake out all the clutter, the memories, and the negative thoughts that would prevent him from living.  Everyone else around him was doing the same, each in their own way.  Some laughed and talked among themselves, and others found their zen in quiet reflection.  Julian simply emptied his mind altogether.

The Chinook vibrated underfoot more violently than usual for a moment, then subsided again.  To Julian's left, a gunner was scarcely visible against the moonless night sky.  He was kneeling with his paws holding the massive fifty-caliber "ma-deuce" heavy machine gun, waiting for the moment of truth.   The closer they got, the more acutely everyone became aware of their own mortality, savoring that moment between life and death, where death was so close it could be reached out and touched.

Death was in the air.   Julian could not only smell it, but feel it in his bones.  In that moment, they were death.  A jaguar sitting across from Julian flashed his familiar piercing stare, so potent that it could be felt even through the green haze of night vision.  Next to Julian, Stan Devoss shifted in his seat, smiling under his balaclava.  Julian knew his friend was too practical, and too optimistic to spend his final moments angry and afraid.  He never missed an opportunity to smile, even if it could be his last.

Suddenly, everyone stood up.  Twin ropes dropped from the rear of the aircraft.  Death thundered downward, and the world erupted below.  Julian descended through a once quiet, moonless night, his heart as steady as ever.  He hit the ground running, and his mind was gone.  He was only death tonight.

 

 

 

 Dehydration was taking its toll.  No matter how much water he guzzled before tonight, every drop of moisture was wicked away from Julian's throat and mouth by this place.  He was floating through a fog, and because his brain had to compensate for the lack of clarity by forcing it into action, the world seemed to move by strangely.  It felt like sneaking into a movie late, and having to figure out what was happening along the way.  

Julian rounded the corner of the decayed brick wall, his rifle raised over a teammate's shoulder.  Through the green mess that was his night vision, Julian saw a second brick wall, connected on either side.  His teammate gestured up to the top of the barrier, and Julian patted him on the shoulder in acknowledgement.  The moment his teammate prepared to climb over the wall, a pair of masked figures suddenly dropped down from the opposite side, directly between Julian and his teammate.  

He could barely contain the shout of surprise and terror that nearly escaped his lips.  Julian fired a total of ten shots rapidly, startling their attackers as much as they startled him.  Julian's final two shots went through the neck of one of them, snapping his head back almost comically as he fell in an unimpressive heap.  Julian's teammate had fallen onto his rump after jumping down from the wall in a hurry, startled by the suppressed gunfire.

As if nothing had happened, they picked up right where they left off.

"Dalton on your left."  a voice crackled through Julian's comms.  Four mammals dressed identically to them materialized out of the dark.  Without missing a beat, they helped lift each other over the wall.

When Julian dropped down onto the dry pavement, he heard a series of wailing screams echoing from the looming building in front of them.  They picked up their pace, and reached a doorway.  They stacked up alongside the wall beside it while one of them ran his paw along the door to assess the right method of breaching.  Grasping a crowbar, Stan stuck it in the tiny gap between the door and the frame, and wrenched it forwards, throwing his shoulder into the surprisingly flimsy barrier, which buckled.  Finishing the door with a solid kick, Stan stood aside for the everyone else to flood inside.  Julian practically tripped over his own boots as he rushed in, knowing that in here, night vision was useless without ambient light to pick up.  As Julian and Stan made their way to the roof, and realized as they reached the trapdoor that would take them there, that the floor was sticky and wet.  Not bothering to envision what could be causing it, Julian made his way to the window.  Figures were beginning to approach on the street.  Not good.  They were getting curious.  Suddenly, Julian's boot struck something heavy.  Looking down, his heart stopped.

In the faint light that filtered in through the window, a young female coyote lay dead in the center of the floor.  Her whole lower body was unclothed.  Blood was pooled around her, and trailed back to the stairs.  Julian glanced at his boots.  They were stained to the ankles.

Julian wrenched his eyes from her, and followed Stan onto the roof.  Leaning against he wall, Stan gestured him over.  A pair of shapes lay in a heap a few feet away, both bleeding from bullet wounds that Stan had put into them, quietly and efficiently.  Julian looked out at the rooftops, and saw to his amazement, a lone figure standing motionless on a roof about two hundred feet away.  It seemed to look right at them; silent, emotionless, and terrifying.  Right through their souls.  Searing, seething, and poisonous.  

Stan swung his M-4 down, and unzipped the large, bolt-action rifle case across his shoulder.  Before he could bring it to a steady position and call in the sighting, Julian's comms squealed loudly amidst a sudden burst of static.  A prickling sensation on the back of his neck told him death was right behind him.  Spinning around, he was confronted by a blood-stained figure with a wide, sadistic grin.  In the split second before his and Stan's bullets slammed into the figure, Julian caught sight of a child's shoe in the bloody figure's paw.

 

 

 

Scott looked outside at the gentle downpour and breathed a sigh of relief.  The rain was slowing down, and so far, no calls.  No MVA's, no lightning fires, and no reason to have to go out in this weather.  For now, Scott was grateful to have survived the first half of the night inside the station with just his shift partners and boredom to keep him company.  A TV was on in the corner of the break room that Scott and a few other mammals relaxed in, but no one was paying much attention to it.  It had been playing when Scott arrived earlier that evening after maintenance and a workout, and no one bothered to turn it off.  It provided a comfortable background to their other pastimes.

 _How feel you?_  a comically gruff voice said on the TV screen. _Cold, sir._ a child's voice replied.   _Afraid, are you?_   the comical voice inquired.   _No, sir._ the child replied again.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and the lights flickered ever so slightly.  Hardly noticing it, Scott placed a few cards on the center of the coffee table.

"Bullshit."  a lynx said.  Scott's eyes remained stoic, but he allowed a faint smile to form on the corner of his mouth.  The lynx picked up the cards that Scott had just deposited, and glanced at them.  Upon seeing their contents, he reluctantly accepted the cards into his own deck.

 _Your thoughts dwell on your mother_ , a gentler voice said.

A pine martin scanned his deck for a few seconds, shuffling them around as if to look for the right card.  "Two tens."  he announced simply, placing two cards on the table.  Taking a sip from his silver travel mug, he waited for someone to call him out.  Scott glanced around at his companions.  No one seemed confident enough to say it this time.

"One joker."  An ocelot said, gently tossing a card down.   _What does that have to do with anything?_   the child on the TV screen said.   _Everything,_  the comical voice replied,  _fear is the path to the dark side.  Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering..._

The siren went off before Scott could say anything, putting the game on an indefinite pause.  Everyone leaped up, and sprinted out into the hallway that would take them to the engines.  Scott was both excited and annoyed.  The thrill of a call never failed to get his blood pumping, but tonight would have been just fine without any.

"N.A.S. Van Pelt, Engine 2." the dispatcher's voice squawked through the fire radio.  "N.A.S. Van Pelt, go ahead."  Scott replied, anxiously awaiting their fate.  

"ZPD is requesting an engine and A.L.S. directly off base for a suspicious mammal, possibly suicidal, 1621 Monterey Circle, reported missing from his home and believed to be in the vicinity of the Marler bridge south entrance.  ZPD and S.O. are already on scene."

"Copy, NAS Riley,"  Scott replied, "show Engine 2 en route."

The roads were slick and relatively deserted.  At two in the morning, the route they took was usually only occupied by a few barflies returning home, and they were able to drive unobstructed the entire way.  The storm had worn itself down to a light drizzle, giving it a distinct wet-asphalt smell that to Scott, was nothing short of intoxicating.  A few broken branches lay here and there, long, jagged boughs lying just far enough off the road that they were not a hazard just yet.  Sweating under his layers of gear, Scott forgot all his annoyance at receiving a call.  Now that they were on their way, he could focus.

The scene near the bridge was a kaleidoscope of blue and red lights, given off by only a few patrol cars.  They were parked alongside the entry point of a long bridge that spanned the west end of the bay.  In the gloom of the storm's aftermath, the bridge seemed to disappear into an inky backdrop towards an unseen coast half a mile away.  Once both the fire engine and the ambulance in tow had parked, Scott and the lynx made their way towards a pair of ZPD officers, their boots splashing in the deep puddles that had gathered along the side of the road.  One of the officers was a burly young water buffalo in his early to mid-twenties, and the other was a stocky cheetah wearing a leather jacket and jeans.  Scott recognized him as a detective from previous calls, and he was the first to see the approaching firemammals.

"It's a red fox, and he answers to Andrew," the detective said once Scott and Lucas had arrived, placing his flashlight back on his duty belt, "his roommates reported him missing when he didn't come home after two days.  Bartenders over at AJ's said they saw him standing by the water as they closed down for the night."

"He wasn't on the bridge anywhere," the water buffalo put in, taking his flashlight out, "so we're checking along the shore right now.  We'll give you the green light if he needs EMS."

Scott anxiously scanned the terrain in front of him, nervousness building within him.  The more he looked, them more uneasy he felt.  All around him, his teammates and police officers seemed to be thinking the same.

The water buffalo made to depart for the shore, which was a twenty-foot wide stretch of sand between the strangely calm bay, and the grassy slope that led up to the road.  Overhead, the bridge stretched out into the night.  A few other officers and deputies were getting ready to do the same, when they all stopped moving in unison.

"What the..." the water buffalo next to Scott said suddenly, his gaze directed at something to his right.  Turning around, Scott followed the officer's pointed hoof, and saw a faint movement on the shore just to the right of the bridge.  There was a faint splash, and every officer's flashlight beam fell on a strange figure.  Standing ankle deep in the water, was a bedraggled and exhausted looking red fox, whose back was turned.  Obviously young and healthy despite his worn-down state, Andrew's head seemed be bowed.  There was a faint whispering, and his lips were moving.  He seemed to be feverishly talking to himself, or no one in particular.

Officers began cautiously approaching him.  The cheetah leaned into his car, and was about to address the fox through the PA system when his ears suddenly pricked upright, and he stopped swaying on his footpaws. In thunderous, bellowing voice, the tortured mammal shouted to the heavens.  Unable to wrench his eyes from it, Scott stood transfixed and watched in stunned silence.

Our father, thou art in heaven

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done

On earth as it is in heaven

Give us this day our daily bread

And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us

And lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil

For thine is the kingdom, and the power and the glory forever...

 

The fox paused, and his eyes widened.  His mouth moved as if he were still speaking, but no sound came out.  Suddenly, as if he knew everyone was waiting on a conclusion, the fox leaned his head back and roared one final word to the heavens.

"AMEN!" he screamed, and brought his arm into a swift upward motion.  There was a loud, echoing bang and a flash of light, and the fox's head snapped back as he collapsed to the ground with a wet thud of finality.  The shot thundered out across the bay, and the scent of death hit Scott like a brick wall.

The officers, who had recoiled at the gunshot, rushed forward to the fox's body, followed by Scott and the paramedics.  Scott knelt by the fox's sopping wet corpse, and immediately knew that there was no point in performing any kind of basic life support.  His wide, haunted eyes were now peaceful, and devoid of light, and as Scott took his pulse, he could have sworn he felt the fox's soul leave him.  A dull, leaden weight lay in Scott's stomach, and the water buffalo in particular seemed to share the same emotions.  He wanted nothing more in this moment than to forget how it felt when the fox died.  It had been subtle, inexplicable, and eerie, but something had changed in the body when Scott felt the fox die.  It was as if one moment, he had been taking the pulse of a mammal, and the next, an empty shell.  

He was no longer fighting the terrible pain.  

 

 

 

They needed to go.  Now.  This had not gone as planned.  No plan ever survived first contact, but they had been blindsided here.  The conditions were set for success, but it in the grand tradition of military leadership, their armchair brass had rolled the dice for nothing.  Now, they would be lucky to bring anything back.

Stan led the way downstairs as he and Julian rushed to meet their team on street level.  There was nothing they could do about the dead coyote girl.  Julian new better than to dwell on what had happened to her, and drove it from his mind.  There was already the icy reality that their enemy had found what they were looking for.  The missing child's shoe falling from his insane father's grasp as Julian shot him stuck firm in his mind, replaying over and over again like a fuzzy VHS tape.

 Julian's face itched terribly.  Despite being made of thin, breathable material, his balaclava was so drenched in sweat and snot that it was beginning to chafe his muzzle.  He knelt by the corner of the same brick wall he had leaped over earlier, this time back on the street side.  The bodies of the two mammals he had shot and killed only ten minutes ago were not still there.  The blood was still on the ground, but there was no trail.  He could only assume that locals had taken them away to be identified.  

The night was quiet again.  A few local wolves howled.  Curious mammals poked their heads outside, nervously investigating the source of the commotion.  Julian stayed out of sight with Stan and his team, awaiting their chariot with bated breath.

He was droning.  So sleepless that he felt weightless.  Being a canine, the scents of this place and his team were almost too potent to stay stoically ignorant of.  He reeked of testosterone, and could tell his teammates apart by their own unique smells.  

The Jaguar had a sweet odor to him.  Not sickly sweet, but strangely comfortable and well balanced.  He hardly sweated, and was so lean that the veins were visible on his abs. The only downside to all of that that was his fur was inherently colder, which made him less useful as a body to warm up next to.

During cold-weather training, Julian had to forget his pride and sleep with his back pressed up against Stan's lower body, whose size and body heat were a furnace in the little snow pits they had dug.  He had learned over the last several years that Stan smelled warm and musky when he was resting, but when his blood was pumping, the giant fox gave off a pleasant odor not unlike burnt pine.  Night after night over the years, Julian had lay awake and breathed in his friend's scent, usually more closely snuggled up to him than he had with any male ever.

Suddenly, Julian realized his bladder was screaming.  In the adrenaline of the hit, he had forgotten entirely about it.  He shuddered and exhaled, unable to keep his eyes from closing in ecstasy and relief as he released the muscles around his abdomen.  Warmth spread down his thigh, where it stained the pavement dark grey underneath his kneepad.

The thumping sound of their way out filled the sky, echoing between the buildings.  They were smaller than the Chinooks, and could fit in spaces no other aircraft at their disposal could, such as the middle of a foreign street.  Six tiny helicopters with bulbous cockpits hummed into place.  Julian's soaked pant legs slapped wetly against his fur as he ran.  Positioned behind Stan, he straddled the seat and clipped himself in by a lanyard attached to a carabiner, watching as dozens of mammals around him did the same.  Suddenly his stomach dropped, and so did the ground.  They rose so rapidly he could feel the skin on his face pulling downward from acceleration.  The target building vanished into the maze, and death was in the air again.

 

 

 

A hot shower was calling, but the work was not completely done yet.  After action reports, reviewing footage of themselves to evaluate their performance and identify what needed working on, and stowing of gear needed to happen before anyone could relax.  Julian watched himself fire into the two enemies who had jumped down from the wall with a mixture of emotions.  It felt like he was watching someone else, and not himself firing the shots that killed two mammals.  They watched the jaguar barrel into another attacker in a room, practically crushing him as he burst through the door.  They watched Stan quickly dispatch the spotters on the roof, and more play-by-play moments from the raid.  It was indescribably surreal, and yet not.

The bonus of this job was the option of privacy.  Julian only had to share a shower with three other mammals while overseas for the first time in his career, as opposed to thirty.  Often times, they just had to clean themselves up the best they could with baby wipes, and forget all modesty about it.  There was no privacy back in infantry.  All pent up sexual urges were impossible to hide.  For once, he could enjoy his moments imagining Erica's presence in solitude.  

 He tugged off the soaked pants with some degree of effort, and quickly stuck them in the washing machine before stepping under the water.  Looking down, he saw his beaten and battered body for what it was.  So many years of punishment and physicality beyond what normal mammals were expected of had not been without a cost.  Julian's knees, shoulders, and back ached in ways they did not used to.  He was as fit for his work as ever, but things that did not used to hurt at all were excruciating now.  

He knew he was still young in years, but his body had been put through too much too fast.  There were times back in his infantry unit where he simply did not know what was normal and what wasn't.  Injuries were relative back then.  He could push through just about anything.  Another plus of rising to this level was that painkillers and other methods of increasing performance were no longer banned.  In the Marine Corps, taking painkillers or performance-enhancing drugs were grounds to be discharged.   Here, they were handed out like candy.  They were worth so much more to the males up top.  

Running around in his soaked gear had chafed him raw in uncomfortable places.  He winced as he tried to get soap into those spots, silently admonishing himself for having to wet himself instead of going before they stepped off.

"Try this,"  Stan said with a wry smirk as he walked in, tossing Julian a small green bottle, "it'll keep it nice and lubricated."

Julian popped the lid and applied the greenish shampoo-like substance to his inner thighs, crotch, and under his tail.  He was relieved to feel a cooling sensation where there had been heat, and found that he was able to move his legs more fluidly again.  Stan shivered under the stream of water, his tail hanging limp and wet as he scrubbed it.

"I know that wasn't your first op,"  He said, "but wasn't that your first time killing up close?"

Julian nodded, "Every time I killed in my old unit was from more than one hundred meters away.  It didn't feel good then, and it doesn't now."  He placed the bottle on the shower floor for a moment, having finished using it. "That's not what's got me fucked up, though."  he continued, his voice casual, "Did you see that poor coyote girl?"

"Yeah," Stan admitted, "She must've been the mother.  They're probably sending someone to recover and identify her tomorrow."

They had both stopped washing, and were now just standing under the water, absorbed in conversation.

"And the father?"  Julian asked.  Stan nodded.

"Him too.  They got to him first."

"You did see what I saw, right?"  Julian inquired, wanting to makes sure he had not hallucinated, "On the roof?"

Stan nodded again before replying, his voice faintly tinged with concern as he retrieved his shampoo. "I saw him too... he saw us."

 

 

 

 Finnick was awake.  He stared out into the drizzling rain, comfortably positioned so that he could see outside without having to strain his neck or leave the bed.  Nick was the less volatile of the two, and remained sleeping next to him.  Even though the air inside their room was perfectly lukewarm, Nick's body gave off a certain heat that Finnick found relaxing and comfortable.

He had grown used to his father being away for extended periods of time.  Nick was used to it, and so was his mother.  This time something seemed different.  He had been called away suddenly, and had been gone for weeks with little information on where he was.  He had called yesterday to let them know they were heading back at the end of the week, but there was a strain in his voice Finnick had never heard before.  It could have been Finnick's acute sense of hearing, but he seemed detached, and not himself.  

Finnick even noticed his mother's distress.  She hardly ever slept, and would spend hours in the bathroom by herself at night.  Katy and Denise had been spending more and more time with them in order to keep their friend company in her husband's absence, to the point that they even stayed the night.  This had given Finnick even more time to spend around Madeline, who was slowly but surely getting him used to her presence.  Even now, he knew why they got along so well, and why Madeline had taken such an interest in him out of every male she could have chosen to be around.

Madeline, Denise, and Simon were still the only Fennecs that he knew.  The older he got, the more he realized they were uncommon at least in this city.  Even during trips to his grandparents house for the holidays, Finnick never saw any of his kind along the way, or in Alto.  Normandy Drive was a fuzzy memory, but one individual from his rescue stood out.  Finnick had never discovered the identity of his rescuers, and this both frustrated and intrigued him.  He desperately wanted to know who the fennec was that he had held the paw of moments after his death.  Maybe he had a family somewhere, or maybe since there were so few fennecs around, Simon or Denise might have known him.  

His ears continually swiveled back and forth, unconsciously scanning his environment like always.  Right as Finnick decided to lie back down again, he heard footsteps outside his window, coming from somewhere on the street.  Placing one paw on the mattress to steady himself, Finnick blinked and rubbed his eyes with the other.  Through the rain-streaked window, he saw nothing at all.  A dragonfly hovered over their mailbox, but nothing else moved.

Nick's warmth called him back down again, and Finnick settled back into his print in the sheets.  Grateful that his father was coming home soon, he let himself drift off to sleep.


	8. Designed to Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short, sweet, little chapter I'm putting here for Julian's sake.

 The airplane was descending.  Julian could feel his stomach rising ever so slightly as he gradually approached the ground.  Yawning, he rolled his head from one side of the comfy, pleasantly scented headrest to the other, and was looking into Stan's soft neckfur.  Pulling his muzzle to a safer distance to avoid inhaling his sleeping friend's breath, Julian looked around and yawned again.  The small, commerical airplane was filled with mammals of all kinds, some with kids.  In the seats directly in front of him, behind him, and across for a few rows, were the familiar figures of his team, nearly everyone fast asleep.  Only the jaguar was awake, his piercing blue eyes absorbed in a copy of  _Redwall_.  His ears however, swiveled back and forth, ever attentive, and missing nothing.

His eyes met Julian's and he gestured out the window, indicating that Julian should look out his own.  Down below, the twisted towers of Zootopia were visible as a cluster of lights sprouting gathering dusk.  Sighing, Julian laid his head back down against the seat as the small, nagging worry that had plagued him for years began to resurface.   _I'm not going crazy, it'll pass._

Yet there was his family, who did not deserve any of this.  His kids, who as much as they loved their father, in truth barely knew him.  They did not need to know, and yet they did.  _They're better off without me.  They don't miss me.  She's afraid.  She knows it's a matter of time._

Yet there was too much at stake.  Ignorance truly would be bliss.  If he didn't do this, he would lose them.  The older Julian got, the more he began to envy those mammals who just went about their lives happily, free to learn and be whoever they wanted to.  One day, that could be him.  As long as he survived till then.

_ It's only pain.  Life is pain.  I'm not crazy, there's just something wrong with me.  Do they miss me?  What am I to them?  Just a ghost who appears for a few months, and then vanishes?  What if Nick becomes scared of me?  And Danny?  Am I just that horrible?  It's just pain...life is pain...This hurts.  This is designed to hurt.  This is designed to hurt.  Bad guys are coming.  Help me.  Daddy?  Bad guys are hurting mom.  I'm scared.  Help.  Don't leave me.  I'm scared to die.  This is designed to hurt.  I'm designed to hurt. _

"Jules!"

The plane was on the ground, and rolling across the tarmac.  He had dozed off again.  Stan patted his shoulder as he stood up, waiting for their turn to exit the plane.  After allowing his joints to pop noisily, Julian stood against the window, pressed in close by Stan's size.  From his height, he was able to see clearly out of the window without having to hunch over, and was amazed by the spectacular sunset that waited.  That, at least, would put his mind at ease.

Slowly, everyone filed out into the gate.  Feeling as though he had been gone for a lifetime, Julian strode up the ramp with the mammals he trusted with his life, back to society, and back to a world that made sense.  The last rays of sunlight gave the airport lobby a cozy aura, which for once was relatively empty.  Being a canine, Julian's senses were instantly overwhelmed by the scents of civilization.  The carpet alone smelled like heaven.  

Soon, the most beautiful sight in the world unfolded at the end of the hall, and all of Julian's fears and insecurities vanished like a puff of smoke.  For a moment, he was a young mammal again, running home after a long day.  They did miss him, and she was not afraid of him.

"C'mere, you idiot."  she said, pulling his face into her shoulder so their children did not have to see the tears in his eyes.


	9. Wake Up Now

November 16, 1999.

 Finnick floated through time and space.  He was pure thought, and the only that existed was her.  The dazzling orange irises were shining like glowing twin suns, and her tan fur was like a golden wheat field rustling in the wind at sunset.  Her presence wrapped around him like a blanket, and Finnick felt a new sensation growing up through the ether.  His heartbeat quickened, and he suddenly became aware of his own primal urges.  Instead of being bewildered or embarrassed, Finnick could not have been more content.  She was the whole universe, and he was perfectly happy to float in eternity with this goddess.

Her lips were inches from his, and Finnick gave in.  The more close she got the more real she was.  He wrapped his arms around her, and was home.

"DANIEL!"

Finnick awoke so abruptly that he felt like an electric shock had been delivered straight to his bone marrow.  He glanced around in confusion, wondering if he had in fact heard his mother yell his name, or if he had imagined it.  Most notably, he was cuddling his pillow like a lover, with his lips pressed firmly into the fabric.

"DANIEL!  GET YOUR LITTLE BUTT UP! YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"

_Dammit._ Finnick cringed as he threw the pillow aside and hopped out of bed, realizing that he had exactly no time at all to get dressed and be out the door.  The frigid November air met his naked fur, and he instantly went to work, throwing on underwear and jeans that had been laying on his bedroom floor, and desperately tugging on a faded t-shirt while snatching up his schoolbag, which thankfully had been packed the night before.  Bounding downstairs, Finnick briefly wondered why he had been so exhausted lately.  The unusual sleepiness and lack of energy, the strange crackling in his voice, and especially the constant "growths" in uncomfortable areas.  He had seen Nick start going through it a couple years ago, and had mixed feelings about experiencing it himself.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty!"  Nick laughed when he saw Finnick come skidding into the foyer, his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, and his shirt still halfway on.  Already dressed and ready to go, Nick had put on a tremendous amount of height in the last year alone.  He had always been taller than Finnick, but now he towered over him.  There was a change in his features, and the childlike innocence was had been slowly giving way to a roguishly charming, yet unkempt and awkward adolescent one.  Finnick had not failed to notice his sudden interest in every vixen he saw.  Sometimes, Finnick would catch Nick's eyes lingering on the rumps and chests of adult females, which he would even compliment to his confused and disgusted sibling.

As Finnick hurriedly shoved his foopaws into his running shoes, a paw grabbed his backpack and shoved a brown paper back containing his lunch into it.

"Move!  It's not going to wait any longer!"  Erica ordered, speaking so rapidly that Finnick could scarcely understand her as she pushed both her sons out the door, "I love you see you after school, bye!"

Under an overcast sky, Nick and Finnick sprinted down the sidewalk and across the street, which thankfully had a green light for them to cross.  A few hundred feet later, they were bounding up the steps of the bus right as the rain began to fall.  The cold air in their lungs sent them both into a deluge of coughing the moment they slowed down and found their seats near the back, and for a moment, Finnick wondered if he had contracted a fever just in the minute or two it took to run from their house to the bus stop.  Once they settled in and the bus began to move, Finnick caught sight of Ronny on the seat across from them, whose scarf could not hide his smirk.

"Top of the morning to ya!"  He exclaimed, reaching out to high-five Nick.  Sitting closer to him, Nick returned the gesture and leaned his head back in relief.

"This little butthead kept me awake,"  he said, nodding in Finnick's direction, "kept rolling around and kissing his pillow."

Ronny raised an eyebrow, glancing around Nick at Finnick, who was blushing furiously and having a profound physiological discussion in his head about why dreams manifested themselves like that.  Especially when they involved Madeline.  

 It had been raining nonstop for days.  A heavy nor'easter had slammed into the coast, inundating every moment of every day and night with wind and water.  The Atlantic ocean spat its contents farther and farther onshore, damaging streets and property nearby in nature's vicious display of its own sovereignty over its inhabitants.  Traffic had all but ceased in Zootopia, and for a rare stretch of time, it seemed quiet despite the howling storm.  Somehow, the weather had put the world on hold.  Every little dispute and common conflict in society was put in perspective for the time being.  Occasional emergency vehicles made their way through massive, lake-like puddles, and mammals went about their lives the best they could, enduring plummeting temperatures and salty wind all the while.  

When Finnick heard the news that school would be soon closed for the remainder of the storm if it did not improve, he could not have been more relieved.  Savannah Central Elementary was not well heated, and Finnick suffered as a result.  Being a Fennec fox, his biological acclimation to heat meant nothing, and thus was spending his days in a state of perpetual misery.  He had endured cold worse than this before at Normandy Drive, but now that he was older, he could really feel and experience why he was a desert species.  At nine years old, Finnick had finally hit his own growth spurt, but to his disappointment, he remained short as ever.  

Nick, however, was changing so rapidly that Finnick found himself sometimes longingly thinking about the Nick he knew, before his voice started cracking, or his newfound obsession with female anatomy.  Ronny had undergone the same changes, as did the rest of their friends, leaving Finnick feeling tiny and inadequate.  It did not help that Nick's talent on any sports field he set foot on forever overshadowed him, but there were still a few things he had going for Finnick that Nick could not compete with him at.  Since his first experience in the Camp Riley pool, Finnick found that despite his large, drag-inducing ears, he could swim like no other fox could.  Endless hours and endless laps had given Finnick a sense of confidence that he had lacked all his life.

In Julian's mind, only those who could fight could live in peace.  To him it was a critical skill, an indispensable component of a mammal's growth and development.  On base, there was a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and Mixed Martial Arts course taught mainly by other canine Marines, watered down for children.  Foxes were still unwelcome in most civilian gyms and schools, as were most canines, and in the lingering cultural mindset of the public, canines were naturally aggressive and predisposed to violence and were, as such, not to be taught how to utilize those traits.  Luckily, the Marine Corps was still the sanctuary for their kind it had always been.  For almost two years, Finnick had watched Nick and Ronny roll, sweat, and train, anxiously waiting to be old enough so that he could stop feeling left out.  His first day had been a disaster, leaving him sore and demoralized, terrified of training endlessly with no improvement.  With the encouragement of his coach, his parents, Nick, Ronny, and especially Madeline, Finnick had no such feelings a year later.

Right now, nothing was on Finnick's mind except surviving the next two minutes.  He hated this ritual with a passion unlike anything else, and the day he would never have to look at another one of these sheets of paper again would be cause for celebration.  The frigid classroom bit at his toes through the thick socks and shoes he wore, but for now he paid the temperature no attention.

"Two minutes..." came the voice of his teacher.  Finnick groaned silently in his head.   _Let's just get this over with._

"Begin."

Finnick flipped his paper over, his numb fingers nearly sending it gliding off his desk in the attempt.  His eyes darted down at the first problem.  Thirty-three times eight.  Easy...thirty three times eight...thirty three...times...eight... _think!  Just answer!  Write it, stupid!  It's not that hard!  Think!  Madeline's smart.  Be like Madeline.  Nick, get out of my head.  It's not funny.  Stop talking about touching butts._

_...Two hundred and sixty four._

Two minutes later when the timer went off, Finnick had managed to complete three quarters of the worksheet.  Having done these types of timed math tests since first grade, he was not terribly disappointed to learn that he had gotten nearly half of the problems wrong out of the few that he managed to complete.  His mother would worry when she saw his grades, but Finnick cared little about it.  He studied mostly to avoid having to endure another unbearable lecture about the importance of good grades, and how not taking them seriously could result in avoidable hardship as a grown up.  Surprisingly, Nick and Ronny had managed to scrape through, despite being almost formally labeled the class idiots, affectionately by their peers, and judgmentally by their teachers.

Now that the timed test was over, Finnick had a few moments to reflect on the fact that his teacher continued to glare at him over her glasses with more animosity than usual.  He, Madeline, and a Jackal named Duncan were the only canines in their class.  Most of the other students accepted them, but their teachers still seemed to carry a particularly heavy grudge against the only canines under their care.

There were only a few minutes left until the final bell rang.  Duncan sat to Finnick's right, with Madeline on his left, all three of them dreading the sprint to the bus almost as much as the prospect of returning to school for a few more days before Thanksgiving break.  Finnick and Duncan had developed a silent game to help them with the boredom over the past couple of years, in which one of them would scratch the right side of their right shin to get the other's attention, then try to guess what the other was thinking of based on the direction of their gaze, and occasional paw signals.

Finnick stared at the backpack hooks, where everyone's shoolbags hung in a row on the far left of the classroom.  Duncan followed his eyes, and once Finnick saw him looking, looked up at the motionless ceiling fan, pretending to stretch his neck out.  Before Duncan could react, everything went dark.  Finnick blinked and looked around.  The fluorescent lights of their windowless classroom had gone out completely, leaving its occupants shifting nervously in their seats.  Looking to his right, Finnick could just barely see Duncan as his eyes adjusted.  Finnick groaned quietly, realizing that the storm must have knocked out the power, and they would have to leave the building slowly, giving him more time to freeze.

As if on cue, music began playing over the intercom.  Finnick gaped in bewilderment.  This had gone from inconvenient to bizarre in no time flat.  The dry, upbeat guitar pattern filled the classroom at a comfortably loud volume, drawing confused whispers from the students.  Their teacher had opened the door to find the entire hallway dark, and filled with the same music as more teachers stepped outside to investigate.

_And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder_

_One of the four beasts saying come and see and I saw_

_And behold, a white horse_

"Dude,"  Finnick whispered to Duncan over the wind-like chatter of students doing the same, "this might be the best thing that's happened all year."

"Yeah,"  Duncan whispered back, "beats going to detention for no reason every other afternoon."

"Hang tight,"  their teacher said, addressing the class, "they're fixing this."

Finnick's footpaw brushed Madeline's and a familiar jolt of electricity coursed through him.  He looked to his left, and Madeline blushed vividly enough to be seen in the dark.

_There's a man, goin' round, takin' names_

_He decides who to free, and who to blame_

_Everybody won't be treated all the same_

_There'll be a golden ladder reachin' down_

_When the man comes around_

"What?" Finnick whipered, trying to interpret her expression of amusement.  

Madeline giggled and shook her head,  "Your brother's going to be in so much trouble!"

"We don't know it was him,"  Finnick countered, although he knew inwardly she was probably right.  Nick knew no boundaries.

Thirty minutes later, the lights were back on and the music had stopped.  Wading through a forest of legs, Finnick, Duncan, and Madeline made their way to their lockers, planning to meet back up at the front steps.  With a twinge of longing, Finnick remembered the first time he had walked up these concrete stairs, full of apprehension as he clung to Nick's paw.  Now, in a couple of years, Nick would be starting high school, and Finnick would no longer be able to see him during school hours.  The thought filled him with nostalgia, since for the last few years he had been able to rely on his brother for advice and fun throughout the day.   Still, Finnick felt relief when he still went to sleep every night next to Nick, and it reassured him that they were still as close as ever.  

Swim practice seemed to breeze by faster than usual.  As talented as he was at it, Finnick hated the long hours in the pool, having to compete against other mammals his size.  The presence of Madeline on the community swim team was both a blessing and a curse.  He would fight harder to improve with her watching, but at the same time, she seemed starkly unaware of how difficult it became to breathe when she would cheer him on.  Overtime, he began to feel like he was starting to understand Nick's obsession with females.  He would sometimes lie awake and think about Madeline for hours at night, overwhelmed with frightening, yet intoxicating emotions.  

 

 

 

Finnick's locker was positioned in a section designated for smaller mammals, situated just down the hall from the study hall door.  By the time he had clamored his way to it, most everyone else was deliberately ignoring the fennec in their midst, with the exception of a few mustelids, whom Finnick would exchange brief greetings with on a daily basis.  Even though they were all in older grades, the mutual status they shared with Finnick on the social hierarchy kept a line of communication between them open.  He squeezed underneath the legs of a female doe to reach his locker, unable to keep from smirking at her and her friends' serious and in-depth discussion about hair products.

After struggling with the padlock that Finnick strongly suspected had been intentionally rusted, he opened the noisy steel door to find several things out of place.  His textbooks were out of order from left to right, having usually been placed in the order of his classes throughout the day.  The smooth, perfectly oval shaped rock on a string that Madeline had given him for Valentine's day was also missing.  Most obvious of all, there was a crude image on the back wall that was hastily drawn with a sharpie, depicting looked remarkably like a fox being shot in the chest by...a crudely drawn phallic image.

A strong paw grabbed the back of Finnick's hood and pulled, throwing him flat on his back in a comically sudden fall.   His head smacked the tile as he landed, and a searing pain stabbed his brain.  Seeing little white lights dancing in his vision, Finnick could scarcely make out the leering grin of a tall, extremely rich and popular hare standing over him from behind.

"Whatchu lookin' at, fox?"  the hare growled, his eyes glinting maliciously, "you want to suck my dick?"

Before Finnick could answer, a thick skating shoe slammed down on his ear, pinning him on the dusty, cold tile.  He cried out, and the hare stomped down on his other ear, twisting them sadistically.  Everyone around them was ignoring what was happening, and some even walked past with visible smirks.

"Don't care what you have to say anyway. "You wanna muzzle too?"  " came a second voice, belonging to a beaver who Finnick realized with a twinge of recognition, was the same who had beaten and humiliated Nick at the ranger scout meeting two years ago.  Blood boiling through the pain, Finnick spat upwards into the hare's face, who recoiled, his features contorting with sheer rage.  Finnick continued to lie beneath him, his chest heaving from the pain, and his throat emitting a quiet whistling noise with every forceful breath.  

Jacob looked like the devil himself.  "You need to die, Danny."  He rasped, so angry he could scarcely control his own breathing.  Before death could befall him, Finnick felt the pressure on his ears lessen.  Through the haze of pain and anger, he briefly wondered if Jacob had made an uncharacteristic decision to walk away, and he picked his head up off the tile, ignoring the pain that shot through the back of his skull.  The Beaver stood overhead, his arms folded, and bearing the sickest smirk imaginable.  Before Finnick could react, or at least scurry away from his bullies, the beaver rudely sat down on his muzzle, pinning him to the floor, and silencing his screams as Jacob stomped down hard on Finnick's right footpaw.  The space between his shin and the base of his footpaw made a sickening cracking sound as it bent backwards, the toes being forced in a direction they could not naturally go.

Finnick's scream of agony and rage was muffled by the beaver's rump.  He thrashed furiously, elbowing the beaver's hips as hard as he could and attempting to bite through his pants, but to no avail.  He could neither see nor breathe, and the beaver weighed too much for him to budge.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the muffler lifted, and but not before Finnick managed to sink his teeth into the beaver's rump as he lifted it up off his victim's face.  The bully let out a infuriated shout and whirled around, delivering a swift kick to FInnick's abdomen for good measure.  

Jacob suddenly appeared in front of the window, blocking the light as he suddenly stooped.  Grabbing Finnick's jeans by the waistband, he roughly yanked his pants and underwear down to the ankles.  The smirk was gone from his face, replaced by pure, unfiltered hatred as his paw shot down to his fly, unzipping it with fingers that trembled.  Finnick opened his eyes just in time to see Jacob push his own boxers down slightly, and immediately felt a hot, noxious liquid impact his face.  Crying out, he instinctively tried to scramble out of the way, but leaned too hard on his right footpaw in the attempt.  Little white lights exploded in his vision, and the room swayed as Jacob continued to urinate on him, while the beaver watched with a horrific smirk, his right paw moving strangely underneath the front of his shorts.  

Several seconds later, Jacob and the beaver turned to leave, but as they did, Jacob spun around one last time, and spat directly onto Finnick's chest.  Wracked with crippling pain, Finnick fought for air, trying desperately to calm himself.  he wanted to black out, to die, to never feel again.  Mammals were walking right over him without batting an eye, no one noticing that he was naked from the waist down, covered in Jacob's urine, and his right footpaw stuck out at an odd angle.  No one here cared.  To them, he was no different than a wounded insect on the floor of an alley.

Steeling himself, Finnick attempted to sit up in order to at least pull his pants back up, but searing pain in his abdomen and head prevented that.  As he collapsed back down, his footpaw shook, sending rippling daggers up and down his leg that broke his resolve.  Tears of humiliation spilled from his eyes as he searched the crowd around him for a sign of Nick, Ronny, Madeline, or Duncan.  Seeing only a sea of legs, belonging to giant, uncaring mammals who scurried by without a second glance, Finnick felt a terrifying memory arising.  Starving and alone in a city park at night, snow falling around him, and looking out into the world to see no one.

The halls began gradually emptying as everyone made their way to the buses, bikes, or parents' cars.  The sun shone directly onto Finnick's face as he attempted to drag himself along, pulling with his arms while keeping his head and footpaw as still as possible.  A cold sensation began trickling into his shirt, and Finnick realized that his water bottle was leaking all over him.  It left a gathering puddle on the tile, while staining his t-shirt, and chafing the skin underneath.  Cold fear flooded Finnick's mind like the water on the floor.  What if they locked the doors?  Would anyone know where he was?  Nick and Ronny would notice he was missing soon, but what if they were not allowed to go looking?  What if he got in trouble for this?  They would blame foxes for anything.

Footsteps echoed at the far end of the hallway, away from the window, and at Finnick's back.  Fifty yards away, they stopped at the three-way corner that marked the main intersection that led to the classrooms. Confusion tore through Finnick when he realized no one was approaching.  Someone was just standing at the end of the hall and just staring at him, probably trying not to laugh at the soaked fennec fox on the filthy hall floor with a broken footpaw.  Seconds went by and still no one moved, so Finnick tried tilting himself to the left, just enough to see the source of the footsteps out of the corner of his eye.  

Instead of a custodian, or a familiar teacher, a tall shape stood silently at the center of the intersection, blurred by the corner of Finnick's eye.  Immediately, a sort of primal sense of unease gripped Finnick's psyche.  He could feel a gaze upon him, and it was making his fur stand on end.  Heated, even poisonous.  Panic was rapidly filling Finnick's heart as the fear mounted.   Something was wrong.  The figure stood silent as the grave, not moving and not relinquishing it's toxic presence.  Finnick began wishing he could just die on the spot, just to escape the awful fear that was flooding him.  His heart pounded so loud he could feel it on the tile, and he suddenly  became aware of his own breathing.  Borrowed time, and borrowed air, and he was undeserving of it.   _You don't deserve it.  Or them._ _Just die.  I'm in your head.  I need you...and you need me..._

"Jesus, wha-? Fin?"

The sound of skate shoes slapping the tile caught Finnick's sensitive ears.  Eyes streaming, he turned his head enough to see a tall, mean-looking coyote, who he recognized as a fifth grader whom Nick and Ronny sometimes interacted with.  Dressed in a plain, light-blue t-shirt and jeans, he looked like a odd, miniature mix between a punk rocker, a well-groomed churchgoer, and one of the street children Finnick had seen in  _A Zootopian Tale._ Lean, athletic, and dressed in a denim jacket with a green tank-top underneath, he exhibited a unique brand of confidence that was profoundly wild, but never malicious.  Caleb's piercing hazel eyes widened in surprise when they met Finnick's, and he hurried over to him, his shoes slapping the tile.

"Geezus..."  Caleb muttered as he knelt by Finnick, "those fucking... _fucks._ "  He paused, noticing the broken footpaw and drew a sharp intake of breath.  As relieved as Finnick was, he was also on the verge of tears.  The longer the pain lasted, the worse it seemed to get, and to top it all off, he was starting to feel nauseous from the scent that Jacob had so intently deposited on him.  Not giving the smell any notice, the coyote tenderly reached over to Finnick's ankles, and grasped the waistband of his jeans and underwear, slowly sliding them back up his legs so as not to jostle the footpaw.  Being light enough for him to lift, Finnick allowed Caleb to place one paw underneath his back, and arch it ever so slightly in order to lift his rump off the tile, and pull his pants back in place.  He finished his restoration of Finnick's dignity by feeding the blonde tail through it's slot in the rear between the pockets, gently tugging on it for good measure.    

Digging into his schoolbag, Caleb produced an orange splint, as well as a gauze bandage roll.  Gently making sure he did not move Finnick's footpaw at all, he bent the splint so as to keep the broken appendage in its present angle, and wrapped it tight with the gauze.  Once he had formed a solid, padded surface all around, he taped it shut.  For a moment, Finnick was able feel something other than agony, and instead felt a flicker of astonishment.  Caleb moved as if he had performed this task before, and been taught.  For years, all he had seen or heard about his brother's classmate was that he was a horny, devil-may-care joker who took not nothing seriously.  Now, Finnick felt a strange sense of inadequacy in the presence of such a mammal.

Quickly however, his hope faded to poisonous worry.  Once Jacob Vanatter and his group of cronies decided to bully someone, they were at his mercy.  The faculty would turn a blind eye, and ambulances would turn up at the school with increased frequency.  Finnick knew he would have to tell his parents, but that would result in murderous retribution from Jacob if he found out who ratted on him.  They knew to not bother Nick due to Julian Wilde's influence, but somehow, they felt empowered by knowing that Julian was away from home often.  Finnick was a fresh target, and they had no idea who his father was.

Even though it lasted hours, the trip to the emergency room seemed to fly by in a blur.  Amid the agonizing process of setting his shattered joint back in place, Finnick was able to find some solace in reliving his dream from the night before.  In his mind's eye, Madeline was curled up next to him, her body heat soothing the pain until the anesthesia began taking effect.  Eventually, his lazy train of thought was interrupted by his mother's voice for the third time that day.

"Daniel,"  Erica said, patting his forehead, "we can go home now." 

Finnick blinked and picked his head up.  There was a cast on his right footpaw that fit like a boot, and the lump on the back of his head had died down.  The pain was gone, and resting on the side of his bed were a pair of small crutches.  Finnick's heart sank.  He would have to take a break from swimming, as well as everything athletic for that matter.  All the outlets that kept him engaged and active were over for now.   With his mother's assistance, Finnick was able to master the use of his crutches within half an hour, and was soon hobbling out the automatic doors into the deep blue evening.  Taking great care to not jostle his freshly casted footpaw, Finnick took too long step forward with the other one, and toppled backwards onto the sloped drive way, where he would have impacted the pavement had it not been for his mother's swift paws. 

Inside, Nick saw Finnick being deposited on the sofa, he looked up anxiously when he noticed the cast on his footpaw.  Struck by the memory of a steel muzzle being forced onto him while fists and shoes stomped and kicked him mercilessly, Nick felt a rush of concern.  Thankfully, as long as dad was around, Jacob could do no harm for fear of the consequences.  He was rarely ever home, though, and that knowledge would be priceless to Jacob.  Resolutely, Finnick plowed through his homework with his textbooks resting on his lap, quietly focusing harder than normal.  Usually, Finnick was so distractable and full of energy that getting his homework done on a nightly basis was a constant back and forth struggle, typically requiring stern reminders from his parents of the long-term consequences of not putting in the effort.  Now, being deprived of his mobility seemed to confine his energy towards everything he used to resist.  It was a simple routine that until now, Finnick had hardly been able to follow: wake up, school, practice, homework, bed.  The only downside to his new focus on the basics, was the subdued demeanor.

All through the evening, Finnick spoke nothing more than a simple "thank you" when receiving his food.  To save water, he, Nick, and on occasion, Ronny had always showered and bathed together, and were used to silent play fights, pranks, and juvenile games while attempting to wash up in the allotted time.  Tonight, Finnick had to slip a plastic cover over his cast that had been issued to him, and rest on the shower floor with his right leg extended, while dodging the shampoo that Nick would intentionally flick in his direction.  Seeing none of his sibling's usual smirk in response, or a playful retaliation, Nick stopped and his shoulders drooped slightly.  Remembering how Finnick had spent months resolutely trying to cheer him up in the aftermath of his own run-in with Jacob a few years ago, Nick felt compelled to return the favor.  After they were dried off and their schoolbags were prepared for the next day, Nick broke the silence while he and Finnick were changing into clean underwear.

"You feel like talking about it?"  he ventured, watching his sibling struggle to fit a pair of compression shorts over his cast.  Finnick paused with his tail halfway into the undergarment, leaning back on their bed with his back against his pillow.  He shrugged passively.

"He did what he usually does."  Finnick said calmly, "this time he just broke my footpaw for fun."

"Caleb said he..."  Nick hesitated, wondering how comfortable Finnick was discussing the day's traumatic event, since it was still so fresh in his mind.  "...peed on you and pulled your pants down, or something..."

Finnick's mind went back to Caleb, and somehow the memory of the coyote's serious, caring demeanor comforted him enough to speak.  "Yeah,"  he said with a sigh, "that beaver kid sat on my face, and Jacob pissed on me.  When I bit the beaver kid's butt, Jacob stomped on my footpaw.  Then he pulled my pants down."

There was another silence as Nick pondered what to say, but he felt no discomfort in it.  He and his adopted sibling had developed such a profound, almost telepathic understanding of each other's emotions.  What was understood did not need to be said.  Finnick rugged his underwear all the way on, fidgeting with the tail for a moment longer while the wind outside picked up, generating an almost rain-like rushing noise from the leaves.  Nick sensed his brother's thoughts wander in another, equally distressing trajectory.

"Do you think..."  Finnick began, staring at the dark window, the patterned light from their bedroom lamps forming motionless ripples across his face.  There was something always wrong.  Something nagging at some dark recess of his mind.  The figure in the corner of his eye stepped into his memory, and a chill went down his spine.

"What's eating ya?"  Nick probed, concern mounting at the thinly veiled fear in Finnick's eyes.  The wind howled a little louder, sending leaves cascading down across the sidewalk.

"Do you think the Devil is real?"  Finnick ventured, his ears twitching strangely.  Nick chuckled lightly as he perched on the bed with Finnick on his right.  "Huh?"  he replied, his lighthearted smile fading when he saw the seriousness in Finnick's eyes.

"Sometimes I don't know..."  Finnick sighed, folding his fingers across his chest.  "all my life, I haven't known what to think."

Unable to come up with a reply right away, Nick lifted up the covers and leaned back down on the bed, jostling Finnick slightly as he settled in.  Finally taking his eyes off the ceiling, Finnick joined his sibling under the covers, his movements deliberate and distracted.  For about thirty seconds, they just lay there with the light on, listening to the wind outside.  Finnick's footpaw was beginning to itch under his cast.  Unable to remedy it, he focused on his brother's radiating warmth, and allowed himself to become lost in it.

After a few minutes, a thought struck him.  "Hey Nick?"  he said, not opening his eyes.

"What's up?" Nick replied.

"Nice music choice today."  Finnick said with a hint of a laugh, "That was the best thing that's ever happened at that place."

 

 

 

Finnick dreamed he was wandering down a barren path in a vast, dead forest.  The sky was a cold grey, and all vegetation was choked, black ash.  The only light came from the grey backdrop behind the trees, and every step sent little swirls of ash around his ankles.  It was so profoundly lonely, and so imbued with a sense of exile that Finnick felt a gradual detachment setting in. He was talking to himself as he walked without actually making a sound.  Thoughts entered and left his head of their own accord, as if they had a will of their own.  The path seemed to stretch on forever, every subtle twist and turn in its trajectory producing the same scene, and even the exact same trees.  Onward into nowhere.

At some point in his eternal trek through the underworld, Finnick became aware of an abnormality manifesting itself ahead.  It was not another tree, but something that, like him, did not exactly belong here.  A figure of sorts...in essence, a form of life in the dead forest.  Finnick continued walking deliberately forward, and so did the figure.  As they drew closer to each other, the other creature's face materialized out of the dark.  He was a relatively young and almost devilishly handsome red fox, around the age of twenty-three or twenty-four.  Despite his virile appearance, there was a weariness about him that aged him beyond his years.  Wearing a tunic of sorts, he moved as if he had just walked for days on end, with an exhausted half-limp that only added to his aura of weary preservearance.  Stopping about ten feet in front of Finnick, the fox regarded him with warm, yet tired eyes, like he had woken up from a long nap.

They stood for a moment, examining each other.  The fox's eyes looked Finnick up and down, his expression unclear, and simply appearing curious.  Instead of being frightened, Finnick felt an uncanny sense of security, that this apparition meant him no harm.  The silence became deafening.  He could not even hear his own breathing.

"It's you, then?"  The figure said, just above a whisper.  Finnick jumped slightly, taken aback.  Composing himself, he nodded slowly, not knowing what he was agreeing to, but still feeling a strange sense that he was doing the right thing.

"It's me." he replied, his mouth moving on its own.  The fox's eyes widened ever so slightly, then glanced downward at the ashy dirt between them.  Finnick followed the fox's gaze to a massive, jet-black dragonfly that lay on its back, eyes facing Finnick with its legs in the air.  A chill went up Finnick's spine, and he could sense the same emotions coursing through the fox's mind.  A sudden buzzing sound shattered the still forest, and the fox looked up again to the light grey sky beyond the canopy.  Dragonflies flew like starlings, morphing and flocking from branch to branch.  Looking back at Finnick, the fox no longer seemed patiently curious.  Instead, urgency and terror radiated from his gaze.

"Go...now..."  he said, his voice almost shaking with trepidation.  "Wake up... _now._ "

Finnick took a step back, sensing that the fox wanted him to run back the way he came.  He hesitated, not wanting to leave his company, and run back into the isolation of the woods.  The fox took a step forward, gesturing with one paw for Finnick to run as his fur began to stand on end.  As he did, Finnick caught sight of something else manifesting in the dark behind him.  Something that made his heart freeze in horror.  A formless void that struck a primal nerve in his psyche.  It had a physical shape, and also did not.  It was real and also not.  It saw him...and it knew him.  Finnick's mind went blank for a moment, and his heartbeat beat out a violent tattoo as he willed himself to run.  With a jolt of adrenaline, he turned on his heel and bolted, running back through the endless, timeless road to nowhere.  He could feel the poison seeping through the trees, chasing him like a wall of toxic rain.  It was searing his mind from the outside in, and there was no escape.  

_Wake up...now..._

He tried to force his mind back together, but this did not feel like a dream.  It was as if an invisible, metaphysical barrier was blocking him from doing what he knew he needed to do.  Finnick willed himself with all his strength, quietly praying as he ran that this was not real.

Suddenly, Finnick realized with a shiver of surprise that he was running through a row of streetlamps.  The woods were still there, but their presence was beyond the reach of the lights, and they simply appeared as eerie trunks that lined the now paved road.  They stretched on into infinity also, and the longer Finnick ran, the more he realized that the poison was gone.  Screwing up his eyes, FInnick tried to wake up once more.  With a scream that did not belong to him, his mind collapsed back in on itself.  

_I need you...and you need me...I need you...and you need me...I need you...and you need me..._

 

 

 

The thunder that tore through the night also tore through Julian's mind.   Despite the heavy presence of impending moisture, there was no rain.  Instead, thick humidity permeated the wooded hillside where he sat, feeling his thoughts grow foggier by the minute.  Watching the world go by from a concealed tent, and wrapped in a poncho liner for warmth, his mind floated to and from bizarre places, and the most primal instincts.

A few dead leaves brushed against Julian's muzzle as the wind picked up slightly, rustling the spindly grey forest.  His fingers finally twitched on the handle of his shortened SAW, the blood rushing back into the capillaries after having been frozen to the cold metal frame for the last few hours.  All around him lay the mammals he lived, ate, slept, and bled for.  His second family.  A bittersweet fraternity, whom the closer he grew towards, the further he felt himself moving away from his first.  Back home, the world knew nothing about his other life.  There, he would blend in with his kind, pretending he had not been where he had been, or done the things he had done.  He was just Julian at home, who took his kids to school, mowed his lawn, and went to the same grocery store like everyone else.  Society would disown them if they knew.  Psychopaths, masochists, mercenaries, unfaithful and ungrateful males...the list of things they would be labeled never ended.  None of that mattered.  They did not care if someone believed their unusually extreme closeness to one another somehow indicated homosexuality, or if someone saw them as nothing more than soulless career killers.  They just did their job, and that was that.

The more Julian's mind shifted around, the more vivid she became.  He shuddered violently when her fingers traced their way up his inner thigh, loosening the tight, pinched nerves with just her touch.  When he felt her breath tease his malehood, Julian let out a sharp intake of breath, his left paw straying down to rest on her head as her lips caressed him where he needed it the most.  At first, it was just the lips and tongue, then little nips as her paws wrapped around his rump to grasp it tightly.  Bucking his hips slightly, he let her take him in, repeating lustfully repeating her name out loud in his head.

_Erica..._

"Don't let me interrupt ya."  came Stan's whisper, snapping Julian out of his trance.  His friend had joined him at the entrance to their hideout, also wrapped in a poncho.  Julian glared good-naturedly at the smirk on Stan's features, wishing he could have had a few more seconds to relieve the pressure in his groin.

"You son of a bitch,"  Julian whispered flatly, "my first combat jack in three years."

"Has it been that long?"  Stan laughed, dew dripping from his fur, "you fuck so much at home that you don't have to take care of business out here?"

Julian smirked, adjusting the poncho over his shoulders, "My sister-in-law's ass keeps you up at night, playboy.  Don't lie to me."

"I don't even have to try, bubba,"  Stan replied, "I married the crazy sister.  Zoe was sending nudes before she even knew me well."  He paused, and his eyes moved down to the bulge in Julian's poncho, "But, Erica...damn...what the hell did you do to her?"

"I didn't do squat," Julian answered, shuffling his boots around in the dirt, "we went to that lake over there by Milton, got daddy's girl home before midnight, and that was it."

"And she just decided to become allergic to clothes around you from that night on,"  Stan said sarcastically, "you can't hide from me, bud."

" _Fuck my life_." Julian replied sleepily, his voice strangely detached.   _Wake up, fucker._ Came Stan's granite tone again, ripping Julian from his dream.   _Get your horny ass up._

 

Julian blinked and picked his head up off the cold earth he had been using as a pillow.  Pushing his poncho down enough to see the world beyond his warm cocoon, he saw Stan Devoss kneeling by him, scarcely visible in the dim moonlight that filtered in through the trees.  Cursing inwardly, Julian decided that unless Stan had an absolutely perfect reason for waking him up, he was going to have to exact revenge somehow.  

"Buddy,"  Julian whispered calmly without moving an inch, "I just want one good wet dream.  Just one."  

A faint smile played on the corners of Stan's mouth before he answered apologetically, "Some retards from Charlie went and got lost trying to find the piss tubes," he said, "so now we have to go find their dumbasses."

_This had better be the real dream._ Julian thought as he staggered out of his bedding, picking up his helmet and rifle with trembling fingers.  Once he had donned body armor, magazines, water, and a balaclava for the cold, he and Stan limped out of the hooch together and into the night.


	10. Moses

November 21, 1999

A low hum filled the sterile aura of Savannah Central Elementary's meager library, louder than any conversation.  In the combined glow of the humming fluorescent lights, and the weak sunlight that escaped the cloud cover periodically, students sat in small clusters.  Some held whispered conversations, and others studied quietly, while an elderly antelope patrolled the rows with hawk-like eyes.   Despised universally by the students for her cantankerous demeanor, she had earned the flattering title of "vulture", for the way she stalked her domain, looking for a vulnerable corpse to swoop down on. **  
**

Everyone still in the library remained either due to after-school obligations, clubs, and sports, or parents who worked late.  In the final week before thanksgiving break, those left waiting were marginally more patient than usual, knowing that a break from routine was within sight.  Finnick in particular was yearning for a chance to escape his new pattering of being.  Cut off from his usual athletic disciplines, he was left with plenty of time alone with his thoughts, watching forlornly while Madeline, Nick, Ronny, Duncan, and Caleb swam lap after lap from poolside.  Taking his coach's advice to not let his time off go to waste, Finnick took careful notice of his teammates' technique, both in the water, and on the mat.  Madeline's stroke was flawless, cutting through the water as if she did not have ears.  Caleb's relaxed confidence in everything he did continued to inspire Finnick, as it had earlier that week when the coyote had discovered him in such a humiliated state.

 _"Don't let me interrupt ya, butthead."_ Madeline's voice had cut through his stupor one afternoon two days ago.  Having zoned out while watching swim practice from a deck chair, he blinked to see Madeline climbing out of the pool in front of him.  A lead weight dropped into Finick's stomach when he saw her in full, lithe and muscled under the thin layer of her sleek, dark blue one-piece.  She sauntered over to sit next to him, picking up a small water bottle from the concrete deck, and unscrewing the lid.

 _"You're not missing out on much,"_ Madeline had said reassuringly between guzzling sips, _"the stupid heater's broke, and they're salting the water.  It's freezing, and it tastes like crap."_

 _"Why,"_ Finnick inquired slowly, with a hint of good-natured sarcasm, _"would they salt an indoor pool?"_

Madeline shrugged, sending water droplets trickling down her fur, _"To make us float?  Or sterilize the water since everyone pees in it, probably."_

 _"Can I ask you something?"_ Finnick inquired, hoping to get an answer to something even Nick had been secretive of.  Madeline turned her orange pupils in his, and instead of the usual lead weight, Finnick's stomach seemed to lift confidently.

 _"What?"_ She replied innocently, her fingers intertwining in her lap.  The led weight dropped again, and Finnick hesitated, wondering if the question would be too forward.  Spotting something else to fill the void, he gestured at a wide, red patch of fur on her thigh that he had never noticed before, which looked to be a bloody scrape.  _"What happened to your leg?"_  Finnick inquired, immediately regretting the question.  He braced internally for an accusation of crossing boundaries.   _Still too forward.  And awkward._  

To his surprise and relief, Madeline's eyes widened and her muzzle broke into a flattered and embarrassed smile. Taken aback only momentarily, Finnick kicked himself for not remembering that Madeline seemed to regard no question as inappropriate between them.  " _It's a birthmark, silly!"_ she replied in a half-giggle, gently punching his shoulder,  _"I've had it my whole life."_

The sharp bark of "Vulture" reprimanding a group of shocked students brought Finnick back to reality.  Looking up from the copy of _Redwall_ he had been pretending to read, Finnick blinked several times to rid himself of the crust that had started to form in the corners of his eyes.  Pausing for a moment to listen to Vulture berating her prey for sniffing too loud, Finnick turned to Duncan, who sat across the table from him, absorbed in a recently published volume about the history of the state of Columbia.  Duncan's eyes caught Finnick's sign language asking him what he was reading.  Holding up the cover for Finnick to see without having to explain verbally, he indicated the title:  _Blood and Vinegar-The Turbulent and Triumphant Rise of the Crossroads State._ Despite it being material meant for graduate school students and professionals, Duncan found it fascinating, as he did with any challenging reading.  Finnick had always found his friend's interest in books and subjects beyond his years both inspiring and strange, since it showed a level of patience and discipline that Finnick was not sure he had in him just yet.  He simply could not sit still long enough to stay interested in most books.  Now that his movement was restricted the way it had been, he was forced to occupy his mental energy with whatever could fill the void, including books he would have never touched prior to his injury.

Duncan continued reading, his eyes coming to rest on an old black-and-white photograph of a decrepit house, situated along the slope of a forested hill.  The caption read:

_The Nergens house was first built by Dutch traders around 1720 A.D.  Pictured here in 1892, it has been rebuilt and refurbished continuously by an unknown source.  Most experts believe it has simply been a collusion of locals with family ties to the original Dutch settlers who built the structure.  In the 1960's, the maintenance stopped, likely due to the passing of Leon Perrot, a Boston philanthropist who was a direct descendant of the Dutch trading company's only survivor, Dael Barend._

Scanning below the image and its caption, Duncan began reading a translated version of Dael Barend's account of the fate of his companions, and his own struggle to reach civilization again.

_And as fast as light itself, the eyes that I had once mistaken for reflecting glass in the dark of my home, suddenly belonged to a specter beyond the confines of hell.  Standing atop the ridge, the figure had eyes only for me.  And such eyes they were...doorways to the world farthest from God's light.  Beautiful and angelic like Lucifer, but unlike he, there was no deception.  I knew whom I saw, and he knew me.  No other around me seemed to have any notion of it's presence, and it seemed to have no interest in anyone's but mine._

His curiosity piqued, Duncan read further.

_I knelt on the cold earth, defeated before him.  The screams of my companions still rang in my mind as I gathered the strength to face death like God intends.  If you must die, go forth and carry your own cross up the hill.   I prepared to die on my footpaws, but as I looked into the eyes again, I recalled an old Norse tale, of a fox who had faced death in such a way.  Among the rippling fabric of his hood, the features were unmistakable.  "Ramiel?"  I asked of him.  The eyes betrayed a hint of recognition.  His voice was like a stone rolling across the door of a grave, a heavy and terrifying manifestation of chaos and the abyss itself.  "Ramiel..."  came the guttural reply, speaking slowly almost as though he were having immense difficulty recalling the appropriate words, "Ramiel...yes I know Ramiel....but who...are you?"_

The passage continued with an explanation of Dael Barend's subsequent return to what was modern-day Naval Air Base Van Pelt, adjacent to Camp Riley and Savannah Central.  His experiences had left him catatonic and bitter.  Despite starting a family and retiring from trading, Dael described being haunted by a shadowy figure, who would never come close enough to see clearly, but would appear at unexpected moments from a distance.  After the birth of his first child, and during a heavy nor-easter storm, the specter would appear through the mist, always accompanied by, as Dael reported, a single, unusually large Dragonfly.

Looking back up at the photograph, Duncan's eyes narrowed, in the small, grainy image he could scarcely make out a shape in the most visible window of the structure.  The subtle shift in grayscale tones clearly formed the outline of a hooded figure, staring out at the photographer with two eerily bright eyes.

"YOU! FOX!"  Vulture's voice cracked through, causing Duncan to jump.  The antelope was standing at the library exit, pointing outside at the hallway to indicate that their ride home was waiting for them.  "AND YOU, TOO RAT-DOG!"  Vulture snapped as Finnick, Madeline, and Duncan leaped up, scrambling to gather their book bags.  Finnick's slow response due to his crutches and heavy cast did nothing to alleviate Vulture's impatience, and she began snapping her hoof menacingly. 

"MOVE YOUR ASS, FOX." she continued as Finnick finally took hold of his crutches and began hobbling past her.  As Madeline walked by, Finnick could have sworn he heard the librarian mutter _get out, you sick little slut_ under her breath, her hawkish  eyes boring holes into the back of Madeline's head.  Anger beyond indignation boiled to the surface of Finnick's heart, and for a split second, he considered turning around and retorting, then thought better of it and followed Madeline and Duncan out the door.

 

 

 

The main parking lot was just out of sight from the library exit, which opened up into an adjacent courtyard, which in turn led to the fenced-in playground where recess was held.  Finnick held the door open for his two companions, still burning with annoyance at Vulture's secretive comments about Madeline.  He scarcely knew what the word "slut" meant, but he understood enough to know that it was a serious, extremely personal insult to accuse someone of being one in that sort of hostile manner.  The librarian's tone had been so vehement and unbecoming of someone responsible for children, that Finnick could think of nothing else until several pairs of footsteps crunched in the mulch to their right.

Glancing up, Finnick's blood froze.  Jacob Vannatter, the beaver, and three of their companions were rounding the corner of the chain-link fence, making a beeline towards them.  Up ahead, Duncan stopped cold before desperately trying to get within sight of the main parking lot where Caleb and his father were waiting to pick them up.  The beaver cut him off, darting in front of the jackal and grabbing the front of his jacket. With a soft grunt, the grinning beaver heaved Duncan backwards several feet, where he landed in a heap at Finnick's footpaws.  Madeline looked strangely calm.  While visibly alarmed, she showed no sign of panic.  Only controlled aggression.  Finnick however, could feel his heart racing so rapidly, desperately trying to pump him full of enough fuel for his handicapped gait to utilize in a hurry.  

Jacob's usual smirk was absent this time.  A cold, codfish-like aura radiated from his eyes, which were situated directly on Finnick as he advanced, kicking mulch up as he went.  Finnick's ears picked up a metallic clicking noise, and suddenly he felt the cold prick of a razor blade being traced along the back of his ear.  Jacob usually talked to his victims.  He wasn't speaking now.  There was only one thing on the hare's mind.  To Jacob's right, the beaver's paw was moving strangely in the front of his jeans again, the smile on his muzzle reaching a sickening peak.

"CALEB!"  Finnick shouted to no response.  "MR. SANSILL!"

These calls for help generated a sudden burst of movement from the gathering bullies.  They swarmed the three of them, viciously manhandling them into a corner of the brick courtyard barrier.  A pair of clawed paws tackled Finnick to the mulch, where a pierced lemur savagely kicked his ribs and cast before kneeling on Finnick's chest, where he waited for further orders from his leader. 

Nearby, Duncan was pinned facefirst against the brick wall, kept there by the weight of two rams, who leaned into him with box cutters drawn.  Through vision blurred by tears, Duncan faintly saw a shadow moving in the trees on the other side of the fence.  It seemed to stop and contemplate them for a moment or two, before directing its gaze at Duncan.  Two glowing eyes flashed brightly in Duncan's direction like twin lighthouses before vanishing into the trees again.

Jacob stood off to the side, watching Finnick turn purple from the pain and anger for the second time in a week.  In the hare's bruised fist, heavily used during his recent stint in juvenile hall for assault and battery, brass knuckles were interlaced so tightly that blood leaked out from between the fingers.  The razor blade made its way to Finnick's throat, and a clawed paw gripped tightly under his muzzle.  Jacob knelt beside Finnick's head, so close that he could see his own reflection in the hare's irises.  

"I know your daddy's coming home today, Danny."  He said as if he were talking to a convict on death row, "I just want to make him understand that he has nothing to come home to."

"Hey,"  came the voice of the beaver, "Hey, Jake."

Jacob glanced backwards at his companion, who was straddling Madeline, staring hungrily down at her. The sight sent chills down Finnick's spine.  

Without warning, Jacob's fist snapped downward in an arc, the brass knuckles impacting Finnick's throat with crushing efficiency.  Instead of feeling anything, Finnick's mind went blank, and the ground swayed.  He rasped and heaved fitfully, blood pooling in his throat.  A coppery tinge seeped into his saliva, and his dragonfly tattoo beat its wings.  

 "Let me have some fun with her first..."  the beaver continued, withdrawing his paw from the front of his jeans.  As Finnick began to regain his eyesight, the beaver began unzipping his jeans, and Madeline ceased her attempts to inflict pain on her attacker, realization dawning on her features.  She began screaming at the top of her lungs, knowing their best hope was for Caleb, his father, or someone nearby would hear them in time.  The beaver shoved a forearm down to stifle her, but was met with a fistful of mulch that Madeline threw up at him, followed by a second, then a wad of spit.  Her knees slammed into his rump, and her elbows struck his sides, but his comparative size and weight kept her pinned.  Leaning down, the beaver shot his paws down to her groin, laughing sardonically as he attempted to violate her.  Suddenly, a faint crack echoed throughout the playground area, resembling a BB gun.  The beaver stiffened up, his eyes strangely unfocused.  He seemed to hover there like a statue for a second and half, before toppling forward onto Madeline, a open, grotesque wound having appeared on the back of his head.

The gang members stared, bewildered for a second longer before a glass bottle exploded directly over the heads of the bullies beating Duncan.  There was an almighty crack, and the lemur pinning Finnick lurched, his head split open.  Throwing the limp bully off of him, Finnick rolled over in the dusty mulch to see Caleb leap over him, slamming his shoulder into a stunned Jacob before hurtling towards the remaining two, who made one ill-prepared attempt to counter Caleb's interruption of their fun before the coyote's collapsible baton struck them both senseless.  Primal rage filled Finnick's vision, and ignoring his cast, he heaved himself up onto his knees and seized one of his crutches.  Balancing on his left knee, he began beating the lemur's motionless body with every ounce of his strength, wanting nothing more in that moment but to cause as much physical and mental harm as possible to the mammals that had just tried to kill them.

"DANNY! THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Caleb's command pierced the cloak of animalistic rage, and Finnick took stock of his surroundings.  Madeline and Duncan stood nearby, both of them sweaty and covered in dust.  Madeline's fist, however, was bloody, trailing red droplets from the beaver who lay still but breathing several feet away.  They both stared at him in an odd way, and in an instant Finnick understood why.  The lemur's head was so bloody that it was staining his teeth, as well as leaving a growing pool on the mulch.  Then Finnick remembered that he had been screaming as he beat the lemur.  A dead weight set into his stomach.  Not the kind that happened when Madeline looked at him in the eye, but a sort of hollow realization of his own capacity for deadly behavior.  

A burly, colorfully tattooed coyote in a plaid jacket and blue jeans appeared from the parking lot.  Andy Sansill's eyes widened as he took in the scene, from the motionless, bloody forms of the gang members, to Finnick kneeling by the lemur, holding a bent crutch.  Finally, his eyes came to rest on the two security cameras that were positioned on either end of the playground, one on the outer edge of the courtyard, and the other on the fence thirty feet away.  Relief seemed to flood his mind.  As long as the security footage was not ignored, they would in the clear.

The library door opened, and Vulture stepped outside, her face a picture of irritation before instantly morphing into shock.  Pointing a crooked hoof in Finnick's direction, she began stammering incoherently.

"Y-y-ou...FOX!  MURDERIN'...RAT-DOG!...LOCK YOU UP...JUS' YOU WAIT TILL..."

Still stammering, she disappeared inside, leaving Finnick, Duncan, Madeline, Caleb, and Mr. Sansill in stunned silence.

 

 

  

Finnick awoke to a sharp pain in his back.  Blinking, he straightened his stiff limbs out, watching dim fluorescent light overhead flicker rapidly, as if it too were bored out of its mind.  With a humbling stab, he remembered where he was, and that he had only been asleep for about half an hour, instead of all night.  The room they had been placed in was intended to be comfortable and sterile, a place where delinquent and troubled children would not be able to easily harm themselves.  The wallpaper around them was clean and recently replaced, but the carpet smelled so foul it was making his eyes sting.  Turning his head to the right, he was greeted by an overwhelmingly more pleasant scent, where Madeline's head rested on his shoulder, also asleep.  Looking down, he realized their legs were pressed together, their fingers intertwined and footpaws touching.  On his left, Duncan still sat with his knees raised on the cushioned bench, playing with a stray string on his jacket absent-mindedly.  On the other side of him, Caleb rested with his back to the far wall where the corner of the bench met it, his knees also drawn up as he doodled on the wall with a piece of gravel.

The gentle weight of Madeline's head on Finnick right shoulder shifted, and electricity shot through his spine when her lips unintentionally rested on the exposed fur of his collarbone.  He considered quietly moving her to a less distracting position, but decided against it when Madeline brought her right arm across her lap, and to his wrist, which she gripped lightly.  Trapped between embarrassment and overwhelming comfort, he slowly brought his own head down to the right, resting it on the crown of her head.  The flowery scent filled his nostrils, and he let himself feel the blood pumping through her smallest vessels, only inches away from her strange and beautiful brain.

Next to them, Caleb and Duncan were having a whispered conversation, discussing whatever it was that the jackal had been reading in the library earlier that evening.  As devil-may-care as Caleb came across, he always held a bizarre fascination with history and science, and was all too happy to offer his own minimal education into the history of their local region.

"The Nergens house is only a few miles away from a residential area."  Caleb whispered, "Some low-income trailer parks and such.  They're all to drunk and busy running meth to care about any historical marker just up the hill from them.  That whole area is dirty as hell."

"Yeah, it seemed kinda run-down whenever I've passed through it."  Duncan replied, still playing with his loose string, "dad never stops for gas until we hit Albany."

"Your stepdad's smart."  Caleb said, "About an hour or so west of the Burrows, there's about a thirty mile stretch of land across the Hudson that has its own justice system.  You do  _not_ want to be stuck out there after dark.  The most sociopathic characters come out to look for easy targets.  A bunch of inbred mountain folk."

"Anything about some kind of..."  Duncan began, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words, "...some kind of...a..."

"Demon-thing?"  Caleb finished for him.  Duncan nodded, "Yeah, that."  Next to him, Finnick's ears pricked up, and swiveled in their direction.

"Back when this area was first being settled,"  Caleb explained, "like  _way_ back. Early colonial era.  The-" 

 The sound of the door opening interrupted Caleb's lecture.  A ZCSO deputy entered, and Finnick's ears pricked up hopefully.  This particular Bengal tiger had been sympathetic, offering them advice and encouragement when she had dropped them off in this room an hour ago.  As she unlocked the cell door, she smiled warmly.  A heady thrill shot through Finnick when Madeline exhaled and picked her head up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.  Taking stock of where her head and paw had been resting, she turned beet red, unable to suppress a weak giggle and smile.  As Finnick tucked his crutches under his arms, the sight of Madeline's embarrassed stance and demure smile sent another spark through his head.  He wanted nothing more than to hug her, to comfort her, and to feel her lips on his collarbone again.  In an instant, Finnick remembered the recurring dream he had been experiencing for nights on end, and that Madeline had been the source of the indescribable joy and contentment he had felt.  It was the most peculiar epiphany imaginable, with the two of them both abruptly finding coming face to face with nature itself.  Before anything could be said, the deputy called them to the door.  

"It's going to be okay."  The deputy said, standing aside for Caleb and Duncan to lead the way out, while Finnick and Madeline took up the rear.  They followed the deputy out the door and down a beige hallway, dotted with framed images of teenagers with blatantly fake smiles proclaiming that they were turning their lives around, while their parents grimaced in the background.  Finnick could not help but smirk at the corny attempt at motivation as he staggered past on his crutches, inwardly guessing that these posters were not likely placed there by any police officer.

Erica and Mrs. Sansill were waiting for them in the main lobby, where they immediately smothered them in tighter-than necessary hugs, and feverish inspections of their most minor injuries.  Both were quietly cheerful during the whole out-processing, but Finnick sensed an edge to his mother's demeanor that worried him.  Before she could finish signing them out, Duncan was informed by the secretary that his foster parents, a pair of Zebras, had called to say that he was never allowed to come home, and that they did not care if died on the streets.

"What do you mean, they  _don't care if he dies on the streets?"_ Erica inquired in her irritated tone, doing her best not to direct it at the secretary, but to express her abhorrence for Duncan's parents verdict about their adopted son.

"That is what they said."  the female badger behind the glass replied, "I'm sorry."  Erica's eyes flashed dangerously.  A few feet away, Duncan's face was the picture of abandonment.

"Wha-why?"  He stammered, on the verge of tears, "I can't go back to Bower's.  The kids there said they'd kill me..."  After spending most of his childhood living in a ruthless gladiator school of an orphanage, a pair of zebras with a soft spot for canines had taken it upon themselves to give him an opportunity for an abuse-free life.  After only three years, it had taken one unfounded accusation for that love to be thrown away in a heartbeat.  Catatonic, Duncan slowly walked to a corner, holding his head in his claws, and sucking in tight, wheezing breaths.  Before he could walk any further, Mrs. Sansill darted over to him and pulled his trembling form into her arms.

"You're not going back, I promise."  She crooned, hiding his tear-streaked face from view with her own head, "You're coming home with us, okay?  We're not going to let you go back."

Duncan looked like he would melt through the carpet.  He knew it was an extreme stretch for Caleb's mother to suddenly decide to adopt him, but knowing that someone was going to make sure he never went back to the orphanage was like kryptonite.   When it came time to leave, he departed with Caleb and his mother, while Madeline carpooled with Finnick, as Denise was still getting home from work.  As soon as they had left the parking lot, Erica's eyes met Finnick's in the rear view mirror.  

"I know it wasn't your fault,"  she said in a promising tone, "but it's happened.  Condition Moses, Daniel.  You, too, Maddie.  You know about Condition Moses too.  So does Caleb and Duncan."

"Okay, mom."  Finnick replied hoarsely, his throat and sinuses still aching from Jacob's punch.  He had expected this, but hearing it from his mother made it all the more exciting.  "I understand, Mrs. Wilde."  Maddie added, her orange irises weary and strangely dulled.  In a heartbeat, Finnick realized what was still on her mind.  The sickening sight of Spence straddling her with his hungry smirk was conjured up, and the thought enraged and mortified him like nothing else ever had.

By the time they pulled into his driveway, he realized that the next few days might be the last he saw of the house he had called home almost all his life for a long time to come.  They were moving, and all his friends were going with them.

 

 

 

 For what felt like the twentieth time, Julian trudged up the cold stone steps of his sons' elementary school, followed by Simon and Andy.  Jet-lagged and strung out after a long flight over the Atlantic ocean that had ended only a few hours ago, this was the last thing that any of them had wanted to come home to.  Unfortunately, when it was Andy picking him up from the airport instead of his family, telling him that his wife Erica were busy picking up their children from a juvenile detention center, the weight of addressing the incident fell on his shoulders.  After ensuring his family, Duncan, and Caleb had arrived home, he and Simon were allowed to view the security footage of the incident that had led the school administrator to have police called to the scene.  Furious at the blatant attempt to incriminate their offspring, they had immediately called Savannah Central Elementary School's principal to discuss the matter.

 _Fuck me,_  he had thought, dreading this latest talk with Nick and Finnick's principal.  Jean Casey held a thinly veiled animosity towards canines, and over the last few years had become increasingly less subtle about it.  This had prompted enough concern from canine parents that many had pulled their children out of the elementary school, seeking out other options instead.  For so many years, Julian had managed to evade the pangs of age.  Now in his thirties, little things were starting to catch up.  His back certainly was not what it used to be, and after one surgery due to overuse, his knees had begun to ache more persistently than Julian had expected.  His whole frame, a hardened and flexible piece of muscle, bone, and scar tissue, was gradually taking on his profession's characteristic stockiness.  After nearly a dozen years of carrying heavy weight on his back and shoulders for days on end, his spine was slowly being compressed.  Nearly every mammal on his team had that same basic look.  Even Stan seemed to have shrunk slightly in height overtime.

Julian lead the way into the office, which would have normally been a somewhat colorful and inviting place.  Due to the grey light that filtered in from the overcast afternoon, and the serious nature of their meeting, it seemed like an extremely drab and depressing place to work.  In two seats by the wall, Jacob Vannatter's parents were waiting with sickeningly confident expressions.  Dressed in expensive, designer clothes and carrying with them an aura of elite status, to Julian they practically screamed "conceited, rich pricks." 

"Why aren't you in prison yet?"  Brandon Vannatter said as a form of greeting.  Julian ignored him, and shook the principal's paw.  "Julian Wilde,"  he said calmly, and sheep principal nodded, gesturing for him to take a seat in front of her desk.  After shaking her paw and introducing himself, Simon and Andy did the same.

"Does Duncan Burkhart not have any parent or guardian available?"  Jean asked, doing a poor job of hiding the snide humor in her tone.  Andy ignored it, and shook his head, "His foster parents declined to come.  They told him not to ever come home, and we've already arranged for him to be with us."

"Good for them," Beth Vannatter commented rudely, "now they'll know to never let that  _thing_ come near their lives again."

Again, Julian and Simon ignored the hares' attempts at provocation.  Only Andy, who was sitting nearest to them, took a deep breath, his eyes glancing back and forth at them periodically.

"We saw the security footage,"  Simon said, keeping his tone civil, "and what it made clear was that your staff made a serious mistake in having our kids arrested.  I don't know if you have access to that information, but you should look into it.  Might change your perspective on the whole incident."

"I have seen the footage, Mr. Zerda.  Now, Mr. Wilde..." Jean replied dismissively, as if the topic was trivial and unrelated to the discussion.  Simon bristled, taken aback by her refusal to even look him in the eye.  Someone had violated his daughter and assaulted her friends on school grounds, and this so-called principal did not even think it was worth her while.

"Daniel's your son?"  Jean began, sounding skeptical.  Julian nodded, keeping his gaze on hers.  "Are you sure?  Jean pressed on, her tone crisp and professional.  Deep down, Julian felt a twinge of annoyance, and could sense that Simon felt the same indignation at the question.

"Ma'am," Julian began, "if you're insinuating that we illegally adopted him, I can provide the documents to prove otherwise.  Daniel's ours, and that's never going to change."

"I"m sorry, I have to ask,"  Jean said, not sounding sorry at all, "The school board just does not have a full understanding of the motivation to adopt a fennec on a whim.  We believe an orphanage would have been the appropriate decision."

Julian frowned slightly, anger starting to rise ever so subtly higher, "He was homeless when my oldest and his friend found him."  he replied, keeping his voice steady,  "There was no trace of his prior family or origins anywhere, and we could not in any good conscience allow him to be subjected to life in a canine orphanage run by a private business that also builds and maintains prisons known for high inmate deaths, rampant corruption, and sexual abuse in their facilities."

"I know it was your call,"  Jean continued, "but he's a Fennec.  He has to know his place.  Encouraging aggression in him is dangerous for his peers."

"Excuse me?"  Julian answered, now thoroughly enraged.  Next to him, Simon kept his composure, watching Brandon and Beth out of his periphial vision.

"He assaulted a student today, and Mr. Sansill and and Miss Zerda attacked another,"  Jean said shrugging, unperturbed by Julian's deadly tone, "if you can't control your son, we will have to make sure he's not under your influence."

Julian, Simon, and Andy simultaneously reacted visibly at the open-faced lie.  Julian had expected as much, but the notion that the school board would somehow try to twist the events around in order to deflect the consequences back down onto his son and his friends, was almost too much to bear.  

"Ma'am,"  Simon said, breaking his silence, "before you say anything else, I shouldn't have to remind you that lying about something like this under oath can have lifetime consequences.  Our children have been assaulted and even hospitalized by this same group before.  Jacob Vanvatter and his friends attacked Daniel, Duncan, and Madeline, Jacob with a deadly weapon.  One of the bullies in question even sexually assaulted my daughter.

"You stupid little oxygen-thief,"  Brandon sneered, "I outta ruin you just for that."

"How fucking dare you accuse them of that!" Beth said loudly, standing up, "We all know about Madeline's little secret!  When are you going to admit your wife's little bitch is already a whore?  Her first daddy had his way with her, and now she can't get enough!"

Silence greeted these words, and even Jean seemed aware that a major line had been crossed.   She glanced from Simon and Julian to Beth and Brandon, back and forth while the tension built to a suffocating thickness.  Beth seemed proud of her rant, and stared back at Simon spitefully, who appeared surprisingly, yet sinisterly calm.  Julian's blood boiled as he instinctively thought of ways to separate Beth's head from her body.

"Who the fuck,"  Andy said slowly, "do you think you are."

"I'M NOT RAISING A LITTLE SLUT, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" Brandon shouted, leaning forward in his seat.  Andy's pulse did not even quicken, and he stared with half-lidded eyes at Brandon, the core of his soul that enjoyed a good knock-down, bloodbath fight itching for a chance to make itself known.

"We're done here." Simon said with a venomous level of patience as he stood up.  There was so much more that he wanted to say and do here, but none of it was worth the jail time.  He simply wanted to leave before he broke wreak and killed three of the room's six occupants.  Julian followed suit, and before they left the room, he turned back to Jean, the politeness gone from his eyes, but remaining in his voice.

"If anything happens to my family, the Sansill's, the Markins, or the Zerda's,...or anyone's,"  he said calmly, "I can't even describe what will happen to you."

"Counting on it!"  Brandon shot back, smirking.

 Jean watched Julian's tail disappear out the door, and practically spat in his wake.  She despised the sight of those foxes,  _especially_  Julian Wilde.  When she was in school, canines knew their place, and were safely in the inner cities and rough schools where they belonged, away from normal citizens.   _They could shank and fuck each other all they wanted,_  her father had told her,  _as long as they were killing and raping just each other, it was a good thing._

"Have his little shit taken away," Brandon sneered, folding his arms, "and Zerda's little bitch too.  Put Andy's shit apple in the permanent hurt locker.  They can't do shit.  Fucking tough-ass Marines think they can threaten us, we can level this."

Beth's face broke into a mischievous grin, "you're not thinking of calling  _him,_ are you?"  

Jean looked curious, their conversation taking her mind off of Julian Wilde.  "Oh, they'll lose their kids alright,"  she said, "it's just a matter of how to convince the state.  They're all protected by the Department of the Navy, so police won't cross that line.  The ZBI won't lift a finger, they've got too many canines working for them here.  We just have to talk to the right mammals."

"Fuckin' cops used to do this shit all the time,"  Brandon growled nostalgically, "a fox steps outta line somewhere, BOOM.  Kids throw in an orphanage, they get locked up for thirty, forty years, anyone who defended them got the same treatment.  God, I miss those days. Now the ZPD's all into diversity and bein' so fuckin' nice to canines.  Ain't fucking right. Fucking species traitors."  He paused, nodding to himself, "Julian's had this coming for a long time now."

"Well,"  Jean said as she led Beth and Brandon out the door of her office, grabbing her coat from the rack as she went, "let's settle the score."  Stepping out into the empty hallway, she turned back to the two hares, one arm still halfway through its sleeve.


	11. The Roots of the Shadow

Gray skies dimmed what what was left of the natural light in downtown.  The concrete jungle was a depressing enough place to live and work, but on days like this, the darker underbelly was visible.  The sins of the not-so recent past were a live and well in the city's conscience, and its heartbeat was slower and more strained.  Hardly anyone who was a recent addition to its population took notice, and most just carried on with business as usual.  Tourists, college students, workers, entrepreneurs, and everyone who made up the bustle of life here were as alive and well as ever.  To others, this city's deep breathing took on a menacing growl.

Bogo stood with his back to the wall of a small cafe, staring out at the cloudy street with growing trepidation.  In nearly four years, he had grown up far more in the ZPD than he had wanted to.  Police work had aged him fast.  Although still extremely young, he was beginning to struggle with chronic lower back pain, a result of both stress and a particularly viscous fight he had survived two years ago, in which he had been thrown nearly four stories off a building ledge.  His ballistic helmet had saved his life, but the impact on his spine, coupled with the fifty extra pounds of gear he wore was almost a career-ender.  Physical therapy and youth had since returned him by and large to his pre-injury state, but he still knew that his back would never be the same.

The faint, tinny music that floated out of the cafe's one radio struck a familiar chord in Bogo's head, and he absent-mindedly tried to make out the lyrics.  It was a chilling opera which only added to the deep sense of dread he felt.  Feeling as though he were at the bottom of some kind of dystopian, undersea city, Bogo whispered the lyrics to himself.  

_No sleep...no sleep...you too oh, princess...in your cold room you look at the stars that tremble with love and hope..._

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his partner, a leopard in his mid-twenties, paying for two coffee beverages.  As he did, his ears caught bits and pieces of the conversations of other customers and pedestrians.  

_"St. Louis might go all the way...the last time that happened, Carter was president."_

_"The plane vanished over Iceland.  The crew was never found."_

The leopard nudged Bogo's shoulder, and he accepted his coffee gratefully.  "You ever just stop and listen to what everyone is saying around you?"  the water buffalo asked dryly, "It can get kinda fun."

"Yeah,"  the leopard replied with a wry smirk, "the ladies in line behind me spent a whole three minutes comparing how they got pregnant."

There was a slight mist in the air, rain falling in a gentle cloud all around them.  It gave the colors of the street a heavy noir ambience that the water buffalo found unsettling.  Together, he and his partner trudged back out under the awnings, staring out at their beat with foggy breath.  Suddenly, Bogo noticed a droplet of red liquid trickling down his partner's neck, dripping from where it had landed on the leopard's beanie.  Bogo blinked.  Another drop landed on his partner's ear.  Then another on his own shoulder.  Blood red.

"Kerrigan..."  Bogo began, pointing at the droplets, but the leopard had already noticed.  Simultaneously, they looked up into a empty, misty night sky as another drop landed square between Bogo's eyes.  A buzzing sound caused them both to direct their attention to a nearby parking meter, where a dragonfly sat facing them, staring as if it recognized them.  It was at that moment that Bogo realized that it was abnormally large, and jet black.  Through compound eyes, it seemed to stare directly through them both. 

 

 

 

Julian wandered an endless starry landscape, neither walking nor running.  His bare footpaws flitted over the grass effortlessly, but he was going nowhere.  The enormous steppe stretched out for miles into the inky distance, the shrubs around him rushing by in a blur without him moving at all.  It was like being caught in a bizarre treadmill, where he had no control over his own speed.  Tired of wasting energy, Julian slumped down to one knee, more out of frustration than exhaustion.  The world around him spun even harder for a moment, before it finally settled down along with a deafening silence.  The crickets were louder than thunder.  Loneliness and guilt surged forth.  Staring around him, Julian felt the weight of thirty five years of hard lessons and mistakes begin to wrap themselves around his head like a snake.  Failure in school, failure in family, and failure in life. The one passion and talent he had ever held was even a curse.  High school Football had given him purpose as a younger male, but had also ruined him.  So many hits, and so many dead bodies in his wake.  Things changed inside a creature that had killed as much as he had.  Even though none had been unnecessary, his soul was bearing the cross of it all.  Vengeance begetting more vengeance.  The monster grew more potent and insatiable every time it was fed.  

"It's my own fault."  Julian whispered out loud, his heart breaking.  "It's my fault.."

The faint snap of a leaf being trodden on attracted Julian's attention.  Swiveling his ears behind him and to the right, he picked up a voice as well.  It was chanting something, almost comically.

_Korni padayut vniz, polnost'yu vniz, vplot' do ada...Korni padayut vniz, polnost'yu vniz, vplot' do ada...Korni padayut vniz, polnost'yu vniz, vplot' do ada..._

Turning around altogether, Julian spotted a cloaked figure several feet behind him and to the right, leaning on an ancient walking staff and bobbing up and down as he continued singing.  Underneath his hood, a canine's muzzle protruded, along with a pair of glowing eyes and rows of glistening teeth.  Noticing that Julian's attention was sufficiently captured, he broke into a toothy grin.  

"Well?"  He growled enthusiastically, "If you're gonna kill yerself, get on with it."  Gradually, he began bobbing up and down again, the chant starting to grow in volume again.   _Korni padayut vniz, polnost'yu vniz, vplot' do ada..._

"Who the fuck are you?"  Julian demanded, not in the mood to suffer fools. 

The figure blinked and fell quiet momentarily, then shrugged.  "Shhh..."  he laughed.  "Shush a second.  Listen."  Julian listened patiently for only two seconds before the figure began to chant again, laughing maniacally.

"I don't have time for this."  Julian muttered, getting back to his footpaws.  As he made to keep running, the figure's voice floated out after him.  "I know who the fuck  _you_ are!"  The figure called, "You are Daniel Wilde's pappy!"

Julian whirled around just in time for the figure to flash him a brief goodbye wave before disappearing into the brush.  With a jolt of electricity that ran through his head, Julian took off after the figure, desperately following the trail of disturbed grass and shrubs.   Occasionally, he caught sight of the figure bobbing up and down about fifty feet away, and then darting into the undergrowth again.  To Julian's surprise and trepidation, the figure would laugh almost giddily each time it whirled around to see it's follower, flashing a toothy grin before taking off at a sprint once more.  This time, however, Julian's footpaws were not gliding over the ground like before.  Each step felt real and earthy, and his aching knees, a result of overuse, were already beginning to feel the strain.  The branches scraped his face and whipped across his arms and shoulders, which were bare, along with the rest of his body. 

The wind in his ears suddenly stopped as he ducked through a particularly thorny tunnel through the taller bushes and trees, whose limbs reached across the sky like an ornamental gateway.  The figure poked his head into the tunnel from the far side, it's glowing eyes galvanizing Julian into action.  He scrambled resolutely forward for several more feet before the figure suddenly appeared in front of him, holing perfectly still with staff in paw. 

Skidding to an ungainly halt, Julian stared at the figure's uncharacteristic stability.  A sleek, black furred finger pointed down into a small pool of water that had gathered in a gap in the grass.  Julian was starting to feel sharply reminded of a familiar cartoon, one involving a lion and a baboon.  It was only now that it occurred to him that this could all be a dream.

Before he could give that notion any thought, the figure spoke again.  "Look  _harder..."_   it breathed.   _"Meet your shadow."_

 Julian frowned into the pool of water, seeing only his reflection.  Then something seemed to shift beneath the surface, like a fish.  Then the reflection itself began to morph, moving of its own accord.  Julian's youthful features gave way to a horrifying and vicious apparition, whose eyes glowed demonically as it's mouth opened wide, showing rows of razor sharp teeth as it lunged upward at Julian's face.  With a guttural shout of surprise and fear, Julian leaped back as his own reflection burst from the puddle, reaching for his head with clawed fingers and an open mouth.

"Julian..." the figure whispered loudly in Erica's voice, "wake up, you're dreaming."

She shook him gently, and delivered a peck on the cheek, expecting the usual remedy would work.   However, when Julian's eyes snapped open, his muscles suddenly twitched, and for a moment, Erica felt a flicker of fear welling up within her.  When she looked into his eyes, she did not see Julian.  Whatever was in there, was not her husband.  

As quickly as it had started, the heat in Julian's eyes vanished, and his heart rate returned to normal.  He looked like himself again, and his face broke into a relieved, and grateful smile.  Erica let out a half-laugh, half-sob, still stunned by the dark malevolence in Julian's eyes.  They had looked unhinged, and full of rage, like he did not recognize her.

"It's okay," he whispered, patting her back.  Erica hastily brushed a tear from the corner of her eye, not wanting to start a long conversation at the moment.  As long as he was holding her, he would be okay.  Feeling reassured, she drifted back to sleep.  As she drifted in and out of consciousness, she thought she heard the faintest sob escape Julian's throat.  

 Several feet away, Finnick lay awake, listening intently with his ears pricked up.  A cold sensation of helplessness trickling down his spine like a spider.  Nick's warmth quickly alleviated some of the fear as it always did, but for several more minutes, Finnick remained awake, staring out at the lights of the highway that stretched past their hotel, and wondering.  

They had driven for days, through endless fields and farms, through large, swarming cities, and rolling foothills.  The days were at least sunny, giving Finnick a sense of optimism about the abrupt change in his life.  Madeline, Ronny, Caleb, and Duncan seemed to thoroughly enjoy the process, pointing out that their new home was in the middle of what Caleb referred to as a "redneck's paradise", with a large mid-western city only an hour away.  As much as he hated to leave Savannah Central, remembering that his friends would be moving with them made the whole endeavor feel exciting and profound, like the start of a great undertaking.   He only wished his parents shared the same outlook.  Julian and Erica seemed anxious and serious, speaking frequently on the phone about subjects they would hide from Finnick.  Julian's friends from work were around more often than usual in the last few days before they vacated the house, helping them pack, and staying up to chat with Julian later than ever before.  Twice, Finnick could have sworn he had seen the outline of their guns under their jackets.  

Finnick's gaze fell upon what he realized with a jolt of confusion were two familiar looking faces, chatting inconspicuously in front of their car, parked at a CVS across the street.  They had both come over to stay up late with their father several times in the last week.  Athletic and hardened, they looked like a pair of college football players.  

"Look at them,"  Nick suddenly whispered in a strangely dreamy tone, snapping his brother out of his reverie, "That's an ass.  Fin, check out her yoga pants."  

Finnick blinked, and it took a moment for him to realize that he was not referring to the two familiar males.  Instead, he followed Nick's gaze to what looked like a throng of chattering high schoolers getting out of a car close to a nearby basketball court.

"Yeah..."  Finnick replied, noticing with mixed confusion and intrigue that he could see every minute detail of one particular cheerleader's lower body through her thin garment.  With a series of thoughts that made him blush, he was sharply reminded of the friend he knew was sleeping just on the other side of the wall.  "Sexy."

 

 

 

Jean, Brandon, and Beth stood in respectful silence in the dim light of a high rise meeting room.  The rest of the Zootopia skyline was situated perfectly in the expansive window ahead, stretching out around them like an invisible wall.  The flickering fluorescent lights behind them were hardly necessary, as the lights from a nearby skyscraper were enough to give the room a satisfactory aura, but not enough to reveal the lone silhouette who sat inconspicuously at the window side of the long table, instead of at the head.  Still as a statue, he surveyed his audience.  Faint, chilling opera music could be heard, echoing up from some cafe hundreds of feet below.  Even before the figure spoke, Jean could sense a darker, and more poisonous presence in the room.  Her fur stood on end instinctively, reacting to the venomous static filled the air.  Something buzzed in a dark corner of the room near the figure, insect-like.   _A moth?_ Jean thought.   _A dragonfly?  
_

"Don't you have anything better to do?"  the figure asked in an unassuming tone.  Eerily calm and soft, he sounded almost child-like.

"We-"  Jean began, but the figure cut her off.

"Of course not.  I'm not a hitman."  There was a short silence, before the figure spoke again.  "But, you're here.  You made the effort to contact me.  You want me to...do what now?"

"Julian Wilde needs to be cut down."  Brandon said, "He needs to lose everything.  He and those shitbags he calls friends all need to lose everything."

"Why, though?"  The figure inquired almost mockingly, "He's such a handsome guy.  His kids are growing up so strong.  His wife is such a hottie.  But...mammals die.  That's what mammals  _do._   Everything dies, and is reborn, and dies again.  The flood will come, and baby...you better be on that ark."

His audience exchanged confused glances, before Beth spoke up.  "One of his sons is a fennec." she said, "an  _adopted_ fennec."

"And?"  the figure replied, "There's no shortage of those."

"He had no identity."  Jean answered, "Before they adopted him, there had been no trace of him anywhere.  He has a dragonfly tattoo on his lower back."

"I know."  the figure replied to everyone's surprise, "Dola gave him that.  It's useless now, sadly.  His guardian angel made sure of it."  There was another silence, and Jean could have sworn she saw something shift in the corner of the room, where the ambient light from outside did not reach.

"You do understand that Julian Wilde is a member of the unit, right?"  the figure continued, "He and his team answer to one mammal.   _One_.  They are so well protected, that going after them is like sending a cripple to kill a shark.  Their kids kicked a hornet's nest, and they know it.  His family, Zerda's, the Markins, and Sansill's families will be leaving town, and going into hiding.  Canines call it Condition Moses."

"That's no reason why we can't put them in their place..." Brandon said, "God forbid Daniel and Zerda's little bitch start fucking."

The figure seemed to chuckle faintly, "That's not very nice, Brandon." he replied in an almost reprimanding tone, "After what she's been through, I think she deserves a decent guy like Daniel.  They'd make wonderful parents."  

 Jean had heard enough.  Stepping forwards slightly, she stated their case as clearly as she could.  "Are you going to do this or not?  We just want Julian dead, and his kids taken away.  That's it.  Dola wanted him dead years ago, so why not now?"

There was a faint sigh as the figure grunted his mocking approval.  "Fair enough.  You don't have to pay me or anything.  I'm not that desperate." 

Suddenly, a darker, and far more sinister figure stepped out of the shadowy corner, where it stood as silent and still as the reaper, scanning the room with a gaze as cold as death.  Jean, Beth, and Brandon simultaneously quailed at the sight of it, and the way it did not even seem alive.  Whatever primal instinct that Jean possessed to detect danger and death, was setting off alarm bells in her head. 

The first figure raised a silhouetted paw to scratch his head.  

"The roots of the shadow reach all the way down to hell.  Remember that."  he said, as though talking to himself.  "We all have a shadow.  If you don't know your shadow, you are in hell.  And hell is bottomless...because no matter how bad things are...they can always get worse."

Jean, Brandon, and Beth each took a tentative step backwards, wondering if this was their cue that this meeting was over.  Unsettled, and yet confident that they had accomplished what they had set out to do, Jean nodded at her two companions, and they turned to leave.  She could feel the taller figure's sightless gaze on the back of her neck, giving her chills.  

"You know why do what I do?"  the figure said inquisitively, causing Jean, Brandon, and Beth to turn back around.   On the concrete parapet outside that jutted into space, a pool of red liquid was building, lit by the little ambient light there was.  Some of it was dripping off the ledge, down to the pavement.  The taller figure seemed to shift again, as though vaguely intrigued by something.   Several more seconds passed before the smaller figure finished his sentence. 

"Because I'm _bored._ "

No sooner did he say these words, a screaming body plummeted past the window, down to the street hundreds of feet below.

 

  _No sleep._

 

 

 


End file.
